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REVISED EDITION WITH HELPS TO STUDY 

THE GOLDEN TREASURY 

OF SONGS AND LYRICS 

WITH NOTES 

BY 

FRANCIS T. PALGRAVE 

LATE PROFESSOR OF POETRY, THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD 



WITH AN INTRODUCTION ON 

THE STUDY OF POETRY 

BY 

ALPHONSO G. NEWCOMER 

SOMETIME PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH. LELAND 
STANFORD .IINIOR UNIVERSITY 



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THE STUDY OF POETRY 



Poetry, the highest form of literature, is one 
of the arts of expression, of which pamting, 
sculpture, architecture, and music are others. 
It differs from these other arts in several ways. 
It is less distinctly creative than music and archi- 
tecture, both of which give shape, as it were, to 
something that did not exist in any shape be- 
fore. It is less directly imitative than sculpture 
and painting, since these employ physical like- 
ness of one sort or another, whereas poetry works 
only through the arbitrary symbols of ideas 
which we call words. It is thus the least vivid 
and least sensuous of the arts. It is also prob- 
ably the narrowest in its appeal. The currency 
of any particular poem is limited to the currency 
of the language in which it is written. Ancient 
Greek poetry spoke fully only to the ancient 
Greek. If we would understand it, we must 
either learn its language, which we can never do 
perfectly, or have it translated for us with much 
inevitable loss of beauty and significance. This 
limitation holds to a certain extent in the other 
arts, but far less fatally. Chinese music, for 



vi Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

instance, does not affect us precisely as it does 
the Chinese; yet music, like painting and sculp- 
ture, comes much nearer to speaking a universal 
language. 

Notwithstanding all this, poetry is assuredly 
chief of the arts, the most perfect expression of 
the human spirit. This preeminence it owes to 
its mclusiveness. The color of the painting, the 
grace of the statue, the melody of the musical 
air, may all be in some measure conveyed through 
one" and the same poem. And beyond and above 
these are aspects of life and nature, shades of 
thought, and ranges of feeling which only poetry 
can express. To take a very simple example, 
note the image and sentiment that constitute 
the refrain of Victor Hugo's Guitare: 

"The wind that blows across the mountain-top 
Will drive me mad."* 

Or note the combination of melody and picture 
in William Dunbar's The Merle and the Nightin- 
gale: 

"Ne'er sweeter noise was heard by living man 
Than made tiiis merry, gentle nightingale: 
Her sound went with the river, as it ran 

Out through the fresh and flourished lusty vale." 

These effects are possible only in poetry. 

*Le vent qui vient a travers la montagne 
Me rendra fou. 



The Study of Poetry ^^i 

THE NATURE AND ATTRIBUTES OF POETRY 

Many have attempted to define poetry, but 
every definition leaves something unsaid. It is 
better tlierefore to forego definition and rest 
content with description. And the fi.rst thing 
to be said has been best said by Shakspere ^Yhen 
he descriljes the poet as being ''of imagination 
all compact." Imagination is the magician that 
gives poetry its peculiar power. Now imagi- 
nation may work very simply, merely bringing 
back the vision of things past and done, repro- 
ducing after a fashion what the serises cannot 
reproduce. But it often becomes in a meas- 
ure creative. It is often pleased, for instance, 
to reshape what has been seen or experienced, 
softening what is harsh, illuminating what is 
obscure, selecting, it may be, the more congruous 
elements and combining them into lovelier crea- 
tions of its own. Or it may take the simple 
event or ol^ject and clothe it with a multitude 
of relations, penetrating ever3^where to the essen- 
tial life and meaning of things. Or it may, 
in the exercise of a still higher function, aissume 
to see in the material some type or symbol 
of the spiritual /and through the one- ''body 
forth" the other. But in whatever manner 
the imagination may assert itself, wherever 
it is active there is the possibility of poetry; 



viii Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

and unless it be active, there can be no poetry 
at all. 

But is not poetry then quite as often con- 
cerned with fiction as with truth? Yes, if we 
choose to put it so. But fiction is not the opposite 
of truth. Fiction, to be sure, means something 
that is not fact, something that has no exact 
counterpart in the actual world, and poetry pre- 
sents not a little such departure from the literal, 
physical truth. Take, for example, Mercutio's 
description of Queen Mab in Romeo and Juliet: 

"She comes 
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone 
On the forefinger of an alderman, 
Dra^vn with a team of little atomies 
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep; 
Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs," etc. 

When Romeo protests that Mercutio is talking 
of nothing, Mercutio admits that he talks of 
dreams 

"Which are the children of an idle brain, 
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy." 

Plato was disposed to condemn such fantasy, 
and would have had no poets in his ideal Re- 
public, because they were so much given to 
reciting fables of imaginary gods and heroes. 
But such a condemnation is too sweeping. 
Shakspere's invention of a Queen Mab is not 
meant to deceive and can do no harm; on the 



The Study of Poetry ix 

contrary it gives much innocent delight. It is 
fancy, not falsification. Moreover, the poet's 
fancy, even while it creates fictions, may be pre- 
senting under this guise essential spiritual truth. 
The hell and purgatory and paradise which 
Dante describes in such concrete terms in his 
Divina Commedia cannot possibly exist just as 
he imagined them, but they are no less essentially 
true in their portrayal of states of sin, suffering, 
and happiness in the human soul. In such a 
case the imagery of the poem may be regarded 
as fiction if we please, but the poem is none the 
less truth in the highest sense — truth that is not 
to be tested by the low and imperfect test of 
mere physical actuality. In fact we get the 
highest poetry only when there is a fusion of 
both fact and fancy in the embodiment of some 
lofty imaginative truth. 

Along with the question of truth arises the 
question of beauty. Poetry, as one of the fine 
arts, should work through a medium of beauty 
and to beautiful ends. In any art we may at 
times find material which is in itself unlovely, 
but such material must be so presented as 
to give no offense, or the art ceases to be 
art. The actual suffering of Laocoon and his 
sons in the coils of the serpents would have been 
an intolerable thing to witness, but the symbolic 



X Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

representation of it in marble, with the signs Oi 
physical pain softened and subordinated to the 
spiritual expression, is contemplated with admira- 
tion; the observer is almost made to wish, says 
Winckelmann, that he could bear misery like 
that great man. Perhaps poetry ventures farther 
than the plastic arts in depicting physical or 
moral deformity and pain, but it does so only 
to heighten some contrasted beauty, or to body 
forth some truth the deep significance of which 
is in itself a beauty. If it stops short with the 
presentation of deformity, it is not poetry. The 
wrath of Achilles is redeemed by his friendship 
for Patroclus and his compassion on Priam. 
The villainy of lago, as portrayed by Shakspere, 
ultimately heightens our admiration of moral 
worth. So, also, the barest philosophical truth, 
having in itself neither beauty nor ugliness, may 
be presented in so engaging a form as to take 
at once the name of poetry. To be convinced 
of this, it is only necessary to recall the finished 
couplets of an artist like Pope. 

But whether poetry present to us truth or 
fiction, beauty or ugliness, it is absolutely essen- 
tial that it be the product of feeling -and that it 
arouse feeling. It might almost be said that the 
beginning and end of poetry is delight — delight, 
that is, in no narrow sense of mere amusement. 



The Study of Poetry xi 

out in a sense which inckides the whole rango ci 
emotional satisfaction. This view of it is not 
universal. The traditional Greek view made 
delight incidental, or a means only, regarding as 
the end of poetry the teaching of action, and 
character. But poetry in which this end is 
deliberately sought is invariably characterized 
as philosophic or didactic; and the terms imply 
an inferior degree of poetic quality. The highest 
poetry will no doubt teach, but that poetry 
which teaches directly is never the highest, while 
that which does nothing but teach is not, prop- 
erly speaking, poetry at all. The direct aim of 
great poetry is to stir the nobler emotions, leav- 
ing them to work out their own purposes in the 
moral world; the ends of morality may be 
served, but they are served best only when noth- 
ing lessens the purity of the imparted delight. 
The cry of "art for art's sake" becomes thus 
"art for art's sake because that is also art for 
morality's sake." 

So much for the general nature and function 
of poetry. Let us now pass to a consideration 
of certain incidental attributes which further 
distinguish it from prose — the ordinary prose of 
science, of record, and communication. Here 
our first guide shall be Milton, who, in differ- 
entiating poetry from logic, declared it to be 



xii Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

"less subtle and fine but more simple, sensuous, 
and passionate." 

"Simple, Sensuous, and Passionate." — The 
direct way to the heart is not through the reason, 
but through the senses and emotions and the 
language of the senses and emotions. Matter- 
of-fact exposition, long-drawn argument, refine- 
ments of logic, are manifestly out of place in 
poetry.. It must keep mainly to the things with 
which all men are familiar, and it must put those 
things in the language of experience. Love and 
death, for instance, are themes of this kind, and 
while it is true that few things could be made 
the subjects of subtler logic or profounder specu- 
lation, when poetry approaches them it prefers 
to do so in the attitude of the simplest human 
being who enjoys and suffers. In Wordsworth's 
poem, ''She dwelt among the untrodden ways,'' 
there is not a thought or an image that cannot 
be grasped immediately by the most untutored 
reader. Nor does it seem that any elaboration 
of thought or expression could convey more 
vividly the sorrow of bereavement than the 
simple concluding lines, 

"But she is in her grave, and oh 
The difference to me!" 

The prevailing sensuousness of poetry is well 
shown by the fact that the poet draws a large 



The Study of Poetry xiii 

proportion of his images from the world of sense 
— of eye and ear, of taste and smell and feeling. 
So true is this of early epic poetry that in all the 
Iliad there is but a single figure drawn from the 
operations of the mind.* Note how Keats' s Eve 
of St. Agnes, one of the most widely known 
and admired of modern poems, abounds in 
pictures and images of sense. Mark in the more 
ethereal To a Skylark of Shelley the same con- 
creteness of imagery — ''Like a cloud of fire/' 
^'Like a star of heaven/' ''Like a rose embow- 
ered/' "Like a high-born maiden in a palace 
tower." Could winter be more vividly portrayed 
than in Shakspere's lines: 

"When icicles hang by the wall 

And Dick tlie shepherd blows his nail, 
And Tom bears logs into the hall, 

And milk comes frozen home in pail?" 

Moreover, in poetry abstract conceptions are 
constantly put into concrete form. When we 
ai-e conscious that time is rapidly passing, the 
poetic faculty within us leaps at once to an image 
and says, "Time flies;" and Scott, in his stir- 
ing Hunting Song, exclaims: 

"Time, stern huntsman! who can baulk, 
Staunch as hound and fleet as hawk!" 

*Iliad, XV., SO. 



xiv Palgrave's Goldeti Treasury 

In the same manner Shakspere, with the reverse 

conception writes: 

"To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, 
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day 
To the last syllable of recorded time, 
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools 
The way to dusty death." 

It must not, however, be assumed that sim- 
phcity and sensuousness are necessary and uni- 
versal attributes of poetry, nor that the test of 
great poetry lies in its appeal to the untutored 
mind. To maintain this would be to limit poetry 
at once to the simplest lyrics or ballads and to 
set the concert-hall song above the Shaksperian 
drama. Milton was merely drawing a distinc- 
tion, not proposing a precise definition. There 
are many kinds of poetry; and there are vary- 
ing degrees of simplicity and sensuousness, as 
there are varying degrees of intelligence to be 
reached. What is simple to one man to-day 
might not have been so yesterday and may 
never be so to another. The poet cannot sink 
always to the level of babes. He may, indeed, 
address himself to most select audiences, basing 
his appeals upon less familiar experiences and 
involving them at times in subtle webs of thought. 
Only, he will keep more on the side of sensuous- 
ness and simplicity than if he were writing 
philosophical prose. 



The Study of Poetry xv 

Moreover, there is in Milton's statement a 
third element to be considered, namely, that 
poetry is marked by passion. Perhaps this is 
the most important of the three. We have 
already remarked how essential it is that poetry 
be based upon feeling. The '^ noble emotions" 
of which Riiskin makes so much in all art, the 
'^ spiritual excitement" which Arnold considers 
a necessary condition of lofty style, must be 
present in some degree; and no doubt if they 
are present in sufhcient degree, if only the poet 
be impassioned enough, his emotional intensity 
and elevation will lift his thoughts, however 
abstruse, into the region of poetry. 

Generic, or Specific?— -Is the generic or the 
specific the better suited to the poet's purpose? 
The fact that poetry shows a preference for the 
simple, sensuous, and concrete, might seem to 
decide the question at once in favor of the 
specific. Dr. Johnson, however, has recorded in 
Rasselas a somewhat different opinion: 

"The business of a poet," said Imlac, "is to examine, 
not the individual, but the species; to remark general 
properties and large appearances. He does not number 
the streaks of the tulip, or describe the different shades in 
the verdure of the forest. He is to exhibit in liis por- 
traits of nature such prominent and striking features as 
recall the original to every mind, and must neglect the 
minuter discriminations, wliich one may have remarked 
and another have neglected, for those characteristics 
which are ahke obvious to vigilance and carelessness," 



xvi Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

The ideas and tastes of the eighteenth century 
in these matters were somewhat different from 
our own. Johnson, for instance, in The Vanity 
of Human Wishes, contents himself in his enu- 
meration of the things that make up the pomp 
and splendor of a king's life, with such vaguely- 
outlined elements as "the regal palace," "the 
luxurious board." Almost equally generalized 
is Pope's description of the happy man, — 

"Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, 
Whose flocks supply him with attire; 
Whose trees in summer yield him shade, 
In winter, fire." 

In marked contrast to this are such lines as 
Tennyson's 

"The seven elms, the poplars four, 
That stand beside my father's door." 

Each poet pursues his purpose consistently. The 
"flocks" and "trees" of Pope are as appropriate 
to his generalized landscape as the "elms" and 
"poplars" of Tennyson are to his particular one. 
All we can say is that there is a preference on 
the pare of probably the larger class of poets 
for specific themes and methods — a preference 
sometimes so marked that a poet like Keats 
will swell the description of even an imaginary 
bower with a wealth of " botanical circumstance." 



The Study of Poetry x\'ii 

These differences are really but differences of 
emphasis which help us to define more exactly 
the limits of poetry. We may agree with Dr. 
Johnson in the main, yet feel that he went too 
far in his restrictions. That which is obvious 
to "vigilance" only, should certainly be as good 
poetic material as that which is obvious to 
"carelessness" merely. But it should always 
be obvious, — not necessarily to the whole world, 
for that would sink poetry to the level of the 
commonplace, but obvious to the alert, the dis- 
cerning, and the imaginative, in a word, to the 
poet himself. Things that are recondite, that 
can be discovered and set forth only by abstract 
reasoning, are not proper material for poetry. 
Neither are those natural phenomena which 
reveal themselves only to microscopic examina- 
tion or which require the test of scientific 
analysis. Such things are the material of the 
philosopher and the scientist, and should be 
handled through the medium of prose. 

To state the principle broadly then, the poet 
may safely generalize only up to the point where 
perception readih^ follows, and he ma}^ be specific 
only down to the same point. Such a general 
truth as 

"Slow rises worth by poverty depressed" 
is poetic material because it is based upon 



xviii Palgrave's Golden Treasunj 

observation of the more immediate kind, and 
is readily verified by most men's experience. 
But such a scientific generahzation as, ''In 
animal life the ascent of the scale of creation is 
a process of differentiation of functions," goes 
beyond the proper realm of poetry. So with 
particularization. The poet may number the 
streaks of a tulip provided he can do it with a 
glance of the eye. If the streaks are too faint 
or too numerous for that, the numbering be- 
comes a scientific and not a poetic process. 
Even the numbering with a glance of the eye 
may be unpoetic if done for other purposes than 
delight. On the whole, it is plain what Dr. 
Johnson would have excluded — very minute 
details, accidental peculiarities, methodically pre- 
cise description and classification. In further 
illustration, take Byron's description of the Lake 
of Geneva as viewed from the castle of Chillon: 

"A thousand feet in depth below 
The massy waters meet and flow." 

This might seem to be a violation of our prin- 
ciple. But a second thought shows that it is 
not. "Nine hundred and fifty-five feet" would 
be such a violation, because we should then 
have an exact reference to an abstract standard 
of measurement. The round number makes no 
pretence to accuracy, even though the poet goes 



The Study of Poetry xix 

on to speak of a fathom-line. The reader gets 
merely an impression of vast depth. Whether 
the statement even approaches exactness is a 
matter of comparative indifference. Most fre- 
quently, indeed, the poet avoids all reference 
to such standards of measurement as feet, hours, 
and the like. When Spenser would tell us the 
time, he says: 

"By this the northern Wagoner had set." 

When Keats woiUd indicate a certain distance, 
he writes: 

''About a young bird's flutter from the wood." 

The legions of Satan, according to Milton, lay 
on the lake of fire, 

''Tliick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks 
In Vallombrosa." 

In every case w^e are referred directly to the 
powers of sense-perception. 

Suggestion and Association. — While poetry 
sometimes achieves its end of giving delight by 
the simple method of filling the mind with pleas- 
ing tales and pictures, more often perhaps, the 
end is attained by opening avenues of contempla- 
tion and stimulating the mind to create its own 
images. By the art of suggestion, or by playing 



XX Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

upon the law of association, the poet may set 
up such a creative activity in the mind of his 
auditor as yields perhaps the keenest of all 
imaginative pleasures. For instance, he may 
compress a dozen images into a single word, as 
when Collins speaks of ^' salloiv Autumn^'; or 
by a striking epithet he may start a long train 
of thought, as when Shakspere discourses of the 
"hungry ocean." An admirable instance of the 
effectiveness of suggestion may be seen in the 
word "silent" as used by Keats in the last line 
of his sonnet, On First Looking into Chapman's 
Homer, The ellipses so frequently found in 
verse, the compounding of nouns, the suppres- 
sion of verbs, the resort to exclamatory forms, 
all owe part of their effectiveness to the fact 
that they substitute suggestion for complete 
expression. 

The laws of mental association may likewise 
be counted upon to stimulate this imaginative 
activity. Words carry with them long trains 
of associated ideas, varying of course with the 
knowledge and experience of the individual. 
The poet instinctively seeks that language 
which is richest in associations. Milton, in 
U Allegro and II Penseroso, plays upon class- 
ical mythology and literature in a way to give 
intense delight to those versed in that lore. 



The Study of ^oetry xxi 

The first stanza of Shelley's Ode to the West 
Wind calls up in succession all that we have 
read or known of the mysteries of witchcraft, 
of the horrors of plague, of funeral trains, muster- 
ing armies, and shepherded flocks. 

**0 wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, 
Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead 
Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, 
Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, 
Pestilence-stricken multitudes! O thou 
Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed 
The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, 
Each like a corpse within its grave, until 
Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow 
Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill 
(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) 
With living hues and odours plain and hill: 
Wild Spirit, which art moving everyw^here; 
Destroyer and Preserver; Hear, oh hear!" 

Imagination and Fancy. — We have already 
used the word imagination in a broad sense as 
virtually synonymous with all poetic or creative 
activity. In a somewhat narrower sense, how- 
ever, it is applied only to the higher and nobler 
phases of this activity, while the word fancy is 
employed to distinguish the lower phases. The 
marks of fancy are to be found in such poetry 
as deals with the merely pretty or amusing, the 
diminutive, the superficial, the ephemeral, the 
sentimental, and the like. At the lowest it 
may descend to the palpably false. When Pope, 



xxii Ir'algrave' 8 Golden Treasunj 

for instance, in one of his early pastorals, de- 
clares that at the nightingale's song ''all the 
aerial audience clapped their wings," he strains 
\iis fancy quite to the verge of the ridiculous. 
Most of the stock images of poetry, like "rosy 
cheeks" and "ivory brow," and especially those 
which attempt to adorn nature with the attri- 
butes of art, such as "silken wings" and "jewelled 
skies," must be regarded as creations of a not 
very worthy fancy. From its worthier exercise, 
however, may spring such an admirable poem 
as, for instance, Gray's playful Ode on the Death 
of a Favorite Cat, or the numerous graceful 
trifles of Herrick, or the best of the sentimental 
effusions of Moore. A good example of fancy 
passing into imagination may be seen in Gray's 
Ode on the Pleasure Arising from Vicissitude. 

On the other hand, the heat and glow of the 
pure imagination are at once stronger and 
steadier than the passing gleams of fancy. 
Imagination ranges beyond the immediate, deals 
freely with the vast in space or power, penetrates 
appearances and seizes and reveals whatever is 
fundamentally true, beautiful, and good. It 
is the native gift of the supreme poets. We may 
trace its workings upon every page of Shak- 
spere, the greatest master of- both the secrets of 
nature and the passions of men. It illuminates 



The Study of Poetry xxiii 

as with a kind of celestial radiance the lines of 
Wordsworth's inspired odes. Unconditioned by 
time or space, it freely transcends fact, but 
never truth. Ideal truth is indeed one of its 
essential characteristics. When Wordsworth 
makes Nature say of Lucy that 

"Beauty born of murmuring sound 
Shall pass into her face," 

we are at first startled as by something merely 
fanciful and untrue. But a second thought 
makes us see that this is no idle fancy, but the 
profoundest of imaginative truth. Indeed, we 
may conceive it to be the literal fact — that 
harmonies which' pass through the senses to 
the mind may be reproduced in the organs of 
the body. Literalness, however, is no necessary 
quality. When Milton ventures upon the high 
imaginings of a Paradise Lost, he does not bind 
himself to fact, that is, to actual human experi- 
ence. Much of the machinery of that great poem 
is a palpable fiction. Through its daring sym- 
bolism, however, it sets forth what Milton con- 
ceived to be the deepest truths of the moral and 
spiritual universe. 

Select Diction. — Coleridge said that whereas 
prose is simply ''words in their best order," 
poetry, in his definition, is ''the best words in 
the best order." Naturally poetry, being con- 



xxiv Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

secrated to the highest spiritual purposes, seeks 
a consecrated language. It avoids all words 
that might shock or offend. It clings instinctively 
to what is old and well-tried. Thus a greater 
archaism is not only permitted to poetry than 
to prose — it is almost forced upon it; and so 
we find in it certain forms, hke "wast," 
''yon/' "trod," "burthen," which prose no 
longer uses. Now and then a poet will strike 
out boldly into new fields, forcing to his pur- 
poses a very modern or even local and technical 
diction. But the difficulty is great and the 
attempt dangerous, requiring for success a high 
order of imagination and taste.* On the other 
hand, verse- writers sometimes betray an exces- 
sive tendency to keep to a special "poetic" 
vocabulary. They think, for instance, that they 
must write of "crystal" instead of "glass," of 
"steed" or "courser" instead of "horse," of 
"youths and maidens" instead of "boys and 
girls." Poetry has doubtless shown a general 
preference for the former of these terms, a 
preference stronger at certain periods in the 
history of our literature than at others. But 
the preference is not always justifiable, since it 

*Perhaps as good an example of this as could be found 
(for by the nature of the case one is practically compelled 
to select from contemporary verse) is Mr. Kipling's 
Mc Andrew's Hymn. 



1 he Study of Poetry xxv 

does not follow that what is common is common- 
place or that what is homely is unpoetical. 
Sometimes the deepest feelings and the most 
sacred associations go with the familiar, homely 
word. 

Indeed, poetry usually prefers the simple 
word. This springs logically from the sim- 
plicity which we have seen to be characteristic 
of poetry in general. Long, hard words are 
learned comparatively late in life; they have 
not gathered about them so many associations, 
nor do they call them up so readily; in fact, 
they do not usually stand for the simpler human 
feelings and relations, but rather for the refine- 
ments of mature life and experience, when love 
passes into regard, and ardent will into prefer- 
ence, and joy into a measured gratification. Or 
they stand for the subtle distinctions of philo- 
sophic and scientific analysis, with which poetry 
has little or no concern. But we may not be 
dogmatic on this point, nor attempt to fix 
arbitrary limits. Milton employs a highly Latin- 
ized diction to suit the dignified character of 
his epic, and he has clearly felt the poetic beauty 
of certain long and resonant proper names. In 
the sonnets of Rossetti, too, may be found many 
such words as ''desultory." "regenerate," ''prim- 
ordial," "irretrievably," "inexorable supremacy," 



xxvi Palyrave's Golden Treasury 

used nearly always with entire felicity both of 
sound and sense. Everything of course depends 
upon the atmosphere of the poem, the effect 
aimed at, and the taste and skill of the poet. 

Poetry prefers the beautiful word — a point in 
which again the taste of the poet is supreme 
arbiter. When Thomson writes "at ween" in- 
stead of "between" and Tennyson "marish" 
instead of "marsh," we feel that they were 
drawn by some peculiar beauty which, rightly 
or wTongly, they conceived to lie in those forms. 
Poems like Shelley's To a Skylark, or Keats's 
Ode to Autumn, or Poe's The Raven are filled 
with the most beautiful and melodious words 
the language possesses. Of course, when a dif- 
ferent effect is desired, uncouth and dissonant 
words may be used; but this is in pursuance of 
a special or temporary purpose, in which poetry 
still, by nicely suiting the means to the end, 
achieves that ultimate and integral beauty which 
lies in the perfect harmonization of all elements. 

Figurative Language. — Figurative language is 
preeminently the language of the imagination, 
which is constantly detecting subtle resemblances 
or clothing abstractions in visible forms. It is 
also the natural language of emotion, which not 
only employs those rhetorical figures — exclama- 
tion, and the like — that serve to make expres- 



The Study of Poetry xxvii 

sion more brief and vivid, but which sometimes 
sees falsely and therefore, without realizing it, 
speaks in hyperbole or under an untruthful 
image. When, for example, in an excess of feai- 
or rage, or out of excessive love or sympathy, 
one attributes life and sensation to that which 
does not have them, he commits what Ruskin has 
called a pathetic fallacy — a fallacy, that is, of the 
feelings, natural and justifiable, and not to be con- 
fused with the inexcusable fallacy of a cold- 
blooded conceit. Lyric poetry is full of the 
pathetic fallacy, as it is full indeed of figures of 
every kind. On the other hand, it is to be 
observed that some narrative poetry of the 
highest type — Homer's Iliad, for example, and 
Dante's Divina Comjnedia — indulges in few fig- 
ures, and those mostly of simple comparison, 
such as the simile, in which there is no shadow 
of mental confusion. Yet figures have remained, 
first and last, one of the great distinguishing 
marks of poetic expression. 

POETIC FORM 

Metre. — Nearly all definitions of poetry agree 
in requiring that Its language shall be measured, 
that is, be given metrical form. Metre, as applied 
to English verse, may be defined as a recurrence 
of accents or stresses at intervals measurably 



xxviii Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

and continuously regular. The rhythm of prose 
is distinguished from metre in not being con- 
tinuous or so measurably regular. Metre obeyh 
a discoverable law. Without going into the 
history of English verse or troubling ourselves 
about the difference between accent and the 
classical "quantity/' we may give a very simple 
outline of English metrics as practiced in modem 
poetry. 

The Foot. — The metrical unit is the foot. 
This consists of one stressed syllable in combina- 
tion with either one or two unstressed syllables. 

The two-syllable feet are the iamb ( ^ JL ) and 
the TROCHEE ( _L ^ ). 

The three-syllable feet are the anapest ( ^ ^ J. ) 
and the dactyl ( j_ ^ ^ ). 

To these may be added the spondee ( ), a 

foot of two heavy or nearly equally stressed 
syllables, which is employed as a frequent sub- 
stitute for the dactyl in dactylic verse. 

From this scheme it is apparent that English 
verse falls naturally into two great divisions or 
classes — the iambic-trochaic class, or what may 
be called duple measure, and the anapestic- 
dactylic class, or triple measure. 

Iambic and Trochaic Measures. — It is not 
always possible to tell whether we shall call a 
given duple-measure verse iambic or trochaic. 



The Study of Poetry xxix 

From the middle portion of the hnes we could 
„not tell. If, however, the lines begin regularly 
with a Hght syllable, we call the measure iambic; 
if with a stressed syllable, trochaic. Gray's 
Elegy is iambic: 

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day. 

Ambrose Philips' s To Charlotte Pulteney (except- 
ing its last two lines) is trochaic: 
» f ft 

Timely blossom, Infant fair. 

Gray's The Bard is predominantly iambic, with 
some trochaic lines. Milton's U Allegro and II 
Penseroso are compoimded almost equally of the 
two measures. 

In general, the iambic movement is the more 
dignified and stately; the trochaic is lighter, with 
a tripping effect. It may be noted further that 
the iambic is the favorite English measure, in- 
cluding a far greater proportion of verse than 
all the other measures combined. 

Anapestic and Dactylic Measures. — The two 
movements in triple measure are likewise not 
always kept distinct. Cowper's The Solitude of 
Alexander Selkirk is an anapestic poem: 



I am monarch of all 1 survey; 
My right there is none to dispute. 



XXX Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

Hood's The Bridge of Sighs is dactylic: 

One more Unfortunate 
Weary of breath. 

Scott's Pibrod of Donuil Dhu is mainly dactylic, 
with at least one stanza — the third — almost 
entirely anapeotic. It should be noted that this 
triple measure very freely admits duple feet as 
substitutes for the triple; a good example is 
Wolfe's The Burial of Sir John Moore: 

t t t f_ 

Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note. 

The Line. — The line is named according to 
the number of feet it contains. A line of 

One foot = MONOMETER Five feet = pentameter 
Two feet = dimeter Six feet = hexameter 
Three feet = trimeter Seven feet = heptameter 
Four feet = tetrameter Eight feet = octometer 

The line is then further described, according to 
the character of its feet, as iambic, trochaic, 
dactylic, or anapestic. Thus the line quoted 
above from Gray is iambic pentameter, that 
from Philips is trochaic tetrameter (wanting a 
final light syllable), and that from Wolfe is 
anapestic tetrameter. 

The lines most commonly used in lyric verse 



The Study of Poetry xxxi 

are from three to five feet in length; in narrative 
and dramatic verse, from four to six teet. The 
great Enghsh verse* is unquestionably the iambic 
pentameter. It is used, with rhyme, for most 
long narrative poems of the romantic cast, and 
without rhyme (blank) for narrative of the 
severer epic type and for the drama. From its 
former use it has obtained the name of the Eng- 
lish ''heroic." An iambic hexameter, when used 
as an occasional variant in pentameter verse^ 
goes by the French name of "Alexandrine." 

Metrical Variations. — Thus far we have de- 
scribed verse as if it were absolutely regular — ■ 
as a child always wishes to recite it, with 
regular and equally stressed accents. Poets, 
however, in their practice are constantly intro- 
ducing variations, and there can be no proper 
reading of poetry without taking accoimt of the 
numerous departures from the normal foot and 
line. The variations are chiefly of Ihree kinds; 
(1) variations in the number of light or unstressed 
syllables; (2) variations in the weight of stressed 
syllables; (3) variations in the relative position 
of the stresses. 

] . An extra unstressed syllable is often allowed 

*Note that "a verse" or ''the verse" means technically 
a single line. "V^erse" in the collective sense stands for 
all metrically arranged language. 



xxxii Palgrave's GoUlen Treasury 

in iambic and trochaic measure, especially at 

the beginning or end of a line: 

t t ft 

Other flowering isles must be 
t f t f 

In the sea of life and agony. 

f t t t t 

The wise want love and those wlio love want wisdom 

The extra syllables within a line are usually 
such as may be easily slurred over {-er, -el, -en, 
-y, the before a vowel, etc.): 

Master of the murmuring courts. 

ft t * 

She dwelt among the untrodden ways. 
t t t » t 

So spake the imperial sage, purest of men. 

f f f ft 

Sweet fluttering sheet, even of her breath aware. 

Sometimes an apostrophe is made to take the 
place of the vowel of such syllables, but the 
present tendency is rather against complete 
elision. The syllable therefore should be pro- 
nounced distinctly, though of course very lightly 
and rapidly. 

A light syllable may be omitted from three- 
syllable (anapestic or dact3dic) measure: 

r f f f 

A sensitive plant in a garden grew 

A A 

This is sometimes done so freely as quite to 
change the character of the verse. For example, 



The Study of Poetry xxxiii 

Moore's Pro Patria -Mori and Wolfe's The Burial 
of Sir John Moore are both technically in anapestic 
measure, but the second, with ito greater free- 
dom^ gives much less the effect of singing and 
more the effect of recitation. 

Occasionally, the light syllable or syllables of 
a foot are altogether omitted, their place being 
supplied by a pause: 

V — y — y — 
Break, break, break, 



On thy cold gray stones, O sea! 

' ' ' jl 

Over bank and over brae, 

f r r f 

Hie away, hie awav. 
A 

Rarely, as I'nany as three light syllables are 
allowed in a foot. If this is done continuously 
w^e get virtually a new (quadruple) measure, the 
feet of which have never been given a name in 
English. Such feet, however, very easily resolve 
themselves into trochees or iambs: 

f 4 f 

Though the bloodhound be mute and the rush beneath 
f 

my foot, 



And the warder his hngle should not blow. 

(Scott's Eve of St. John.) 

2. Stresses are not of uniform strength. Some- 
times the place of the stress is occupied by a 



xxxiv Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

very weak syllable. In reading, such a syllable 
is given the least accent possible — merely suffi- 
cient to indicate the time-beat: 

^ 1- ' ' ' ' 

Amid the timbrels and the throng'd resort. 
t f f f } 

The mockery o/ my people and their bane. 

r > f t t 

The sound of merriwewi and chorus bland. 
Iambic pentameters, notwithstanding their five 
time-beats, show on the average only about four 
strong stresses to the line. 

Often the unstressed position is occupied by a 
heavy syllable, which must not, however, be 
given the time-beat so long as there is an equally 
heavy syllable in the stressed position: 
* f * t t 

But how to take last leave of all I love. 

3. The position of stresses may occasionally 
be shifted, yielding inverted feet: 

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay 

f r t t f 

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, 

The lone and leA^el sands stretch far away. 

Such inversion is most frequent at the begin- 
ning of a line or after a pause. It is mainly con- 
fined, too, to iambic verse, the other measures 
— trochaic, anapestic, and dactylic — having their 
accentual character more strongly marked. 



The Study of Poetry xxxv 

Sometimes the shifting of stresses is carried 
so far as to bring about a kind of fusion of two 
feet into one long compound foot. The number 
and weight of stresses remain the same, but 
the alternation is temporarily lost: 

And the first gray of morning filled the east. 

_!. s_^ ^ _!_ _L ^ ' ' 

Raised high "7' the faint head o'er wliich it hung. 

Here the scansion of the italicized portion is 
>^ w _!. _1 instead of ^ jl ^ A. 

Rhyme. — Rhyme is a recurrence of the same 
sound or sounds. According to present English 
practice, two words are said to rhyme when 
they are similar in sound from the vowel of the 
last accented syllable to the close. It is com- 
monly required that the consonants (or combi- 
nation of consonants) preceding the accented 
vowel be different. That is, fate, ate, rate, gate, 
etc., may rhyme with grate, but not great with 
grate, because of their complete identity; but 
a few poets have followed the French custom 
and allowed this identity. Spelling has nothing 
to do with the matter; strait and straight are 
both rhymes to either gi^eat or grate. 

Masculine ehyme is rhyme of a single syllable: 
go - grow; felled - beheld. 

Feminine or double rhyme (so named be- 
cause of the svllabic addition to feminine words 



XXX vi Pal grave's Golden Trtunury 

in French) is rhyme of two syllables; going - 
growing; city - pity. 

Triple rhyme is also occasionally found: 
tenderly - slenderly; bring to her - spring to her. 

Slight variations in the vowel sounds and 
(more rarely) in the consonant sounds are ad- 
mitted by most poets : love - prove; Christ - mist; 
prize - Paradise. 

Weak or light rhyme occurs when one of the 
rhyming syllables has only a secondary word- 
accent: see - futurity ; sped- piloted; spell -desir- 
able. 

Another musical device frequently employed 
is ALLITERATION. This is merely beginning- 
rhyme, or similarity of sound at the beginning 
of words or syllables: now -never; blight -blos- 
som; love - relent; strive - restrain. In early Eng- 
lish poetry, alliteration was employed systemat- 
ically, but now it is almost wholly incidental; 
for example: 

With just enough of Me to see 
The Zast of suns go down on me. 

To alliteration may be added assonance, or 
similarity of sound (chiefly vowel) within words; 
gray - save; gloaming - home. This also is but 
an incidental element. Yet these incidental 
elements often add great charm to verse. Ob- 
serve, for example, how effectively the three 



Tlie SLudy of Pcdry xxxvii 

consonant sounds in the word Cupid are made 
to play through the following lines: 

Cupid and my Campaspe play'd 
At cards for kisses; Cupid paid 

and observe how extremely musical the follow- 
ing stanza is made by the chiming and cadence 
of its dominant sounds: 

The low downs lean to the sea; the stream. 

One loose thin pulseless tremulous vein, 
Rapid and vivid and dumb as a dream, 

Works dowTiward, sick of the sun and the rain. 

Blank Verse. — Blank verse is verse without 
rhyme. It is commonly iambic pentameter, as 
in Shakspere's dramas and Milton's Paradise 
Lost. In this verse there are no metrical units 
greater than the line; be3^oncl that the verse 
simply moves in rhythmical masses and falls into 
paragraphs hke those of prose: 

*'Is tliis the region^ this the soil, the clime." 
Said then the lost Archangel, "this the seat 
That we must change for Heaven? — this mournful gloom 
For that celestial light? Be it so, since He 

Who now is sovran can dispose and bid 
What shall be right; farthest from him is best. 
Whom reason hath equalled, force hath made supreme 
Above his equals. Farewell, happy fields. 

Where joy forever dwells! Hail, horrors! hail, 
Infernal World! and thou, profoundest Hell, 
Receive thy new possessor — one who brings 
A mind not to be changed by place or time. 

The mind is its own place, and in itself 
Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven." 



xxxviii Pal grave's Golden Treasury 

Another familiar form of blank verse is the 
DACTYLIC HEXAMETER, which is modelled upon 
the Greek and Latin hexameter, with very 
definite rules of its own. Among these rules are 
the requirement that the sixth or last foot shall 
always be a trochee; that a two-syllable foot 
(properly a spondee, but often a trochee) may 
be substituted for the dactyl of any foot but the 
fifth; and that the chief rhetorical pause within 
the line, technically kno^\Ti as the caesura, 
shall not come at the end of a foot: 

Awed by her own rash, words she was stiU: || and her 

r f 

eyes to the seawardA 

Looked for an answer of wrath: far off, in the heart of 
the darlcness, 

Bright white mists rose slowly; beneath them the wander- 
ing ocean 

Ghmmered and glowed to the deepest abyss; and the 
knees of the maiden 

Trembled and sank in her fear, as afar, like a dawn in the 
midnight, 

Rose from their seaweed chamber the choir of the mys- 
tical sea-maids. 

Couplets. — The simplest use of rhyme is shown 
in the couplet — two successive rhyming lines. 
This, like blank verse, is most frequently iambic 
pentameter. Two kinds of pentameter couplets 
may be distinguished, the classic and the roman- 
tic. In the former there is a marked pause at 



The Study of Poetry xxxix 

the end, each couplet constituting a pretty dis- 
tinct rhetorical unit, with internal balance nicely 
adjusted; as in the followihg example from Pope's 
Ra'pe of the Lock: 

But now secure the painted vessel glides, 
The sunbeams trembhng on the floating tides; 
While mehing music steals upon the sky, 
And soften'd sounds along the waters die; 
Smooth flow the waves, the zephyrs gently play, 
Belinda smiled, and all the world was gay. 

In the romantic couplet there are many '' run- 
on" lines, the pauses occurring at any point, 
with frequently a full stop in the middle of a 
line. The opening lines of Keats's Endymion 
afford a good illustration: 



A thing of beauty is a joy foreA'er; 

Its loveliness increases; it will never 

Pass into nothingness; but still will keep 

A bower quiet for us, and a sleep 

Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. 



In either case these couplets are printed con- 
tinuously, like blank verse, with large irregular 
paragraph divisions. 

Stanza Forms. — Rhjmie is not only a musical 
addition to verse, but it serves also to bind the 
lines into the larger poetic units known as stanzas. 
Sometimes stanzas are constructed without 
rhymes, as in Collinses ode To Evening, but this 



xl Palgravc^s Golden Treasury 

is rare. The briefest stanza consists of two 
lines. Couplets, as defined above, are not 
stanzas. But when printed separately, they 
constitute stanzas to which perhaps the name 
of DiSTicHS may be given. An example is 
Whittier's Maud Muller. Specimens may be 
found also of three-line stanzas, with triple 
rhyme. Above this we reach the forms of the 
more common stanzas, and the possible combi- 
nations become obviously very numerous. We 
shall indicate only the more frequent and char- 
acteristic combinations, some of which have 
distinctive names. 

A QUATRAIN consists of four lines, usually 
with alternate rhyme, a, h, a, b: 

I see the rainbow in the sky, 

The dew upon the grass, 
I see them, and I ask not why 

They glimmer or they pass. 

An important variation is that employed by 
Tennyson in In Memoriam, with an enclosed 
couplet, thus: a, h, b, a. The lines are tetram- 
eter: 

I sing to him that rests below, 

And, since the grasses round me wave, 
I take the grasses of the grave 

And *make them pipes whereon to blow. 

Another variation is the oriental quatrain of 



The Study of Poetry xli 

Fitzgerald's Ruhaiyat: a, a, h, a. The lines of 
this are pentameter: 

Awake! for morning in the bowl of night 

Has flung the stone that put the stars to flight: 

And lo! the hunter of the east has caught 
The sultan's turret in a noose of light. 

Rhyme-royal is a seven-line pentameter 
stanza, a, h, a, h, b, c, c. It was much used in 
Chaucer's time. An example may be found in 
the familiar Prelude of William Morris's Earthly 
Paradise: 

Of Heaven or Hell I have no power to sing, 
I cannot ease the burden of your fears, 

Or make quick-coming death a little thing. 
Or bring again the pleasure of past years, 
Nor for my words shall ye forget your tears, 

Or hope again for aught that I can say. 

The idle singer of an empty day, 

Ottaya rima is an eight-line pentameter 
stanza, a, b, a, b, a, b, c, c. The stanza and the 
name were borrowed from the Italian. Byron's 
Don Juan will furnish an example: 

And first one universal shriek there rushed 
Louder than the loud ocean, like a crash 

Of echoing thunder; and then all was hushed, 
Save the wild wind and the remorseless dash 

Of billows; but at intervals there gushed, 
Accompanied with a con\nilsive splash, 

A solitary shriek, the bubbling cry 

Of some strong swimmer in his agony, 



xlii Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

Another Italian form, not really stanzaic, is 
the terza rima, consisting of sets of triple rhymes 
interlocked, a, 6, a, h, c, h, c, d, c, d, e, d, etc. 
See Shelley's Ode to the West Wind. 

The Spenserian stanza, invented by Spenser 
for his Faerie Queene, consists of nine lines — 
eight iambic pentameter and the ninth an 
Alexandrine — rhyming a, h, a, h, h, c, h, c, c. 
The example following is from Spenser, but 
the stanza may be seen also in Byron's Childe 
Harold, Keats's Eve of St. Agnes, and various 
poems of Shelley's, such as the Stanzas Written 
in Dejection near Naples: 

One day, nigh weary of the irksome way, 
From her unhasty beast she did alight, 
And on the grass her dainty limbs did lay 
In secret shadow, far from all men's sight: 
From her fair head her fillet she undight, 
And laid her stole aside. Her angel's face, 
As the great eye of heaven, shined bright, 
And made a sunshine in the shady place; 
Did never mortal eye behold such heavenly grace. 

The Sonnet. — The sonnet is a complete poem 
of fourteen iambic pentameter lines. In the 
strict Italian or Petrarchan form it is divided 
formally, and usually also logically, into an 
octave and a sestet. The octave contains but 
two rhymes, in the order a, h, h, a, a, b, b, a. 
The sestet mav contain either two or three 



The Study of Poetry xliii 

rhymes arranged iii any interlinked order — 
c, d, c, d, c, d; c, c, d, c, c, d; c, d, e, c, d, e; c, d, 
e, d, c, e, etc. The following example is from 
Wordsworth : 

The world is too much with us; late and soon, 
Getting and spending, we lay w^aste our powers: 
Little we see in Nature that is ours; 
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon I 
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; 
The winds that will be howling at all hours, 
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; 
For this, for everything, we are out of tune; 
It m.oves us not. — Great God! I'd rather be 
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; 
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea. 
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; 
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; 
Or hear old Triton blow liis wreathed horn. 

The Shaksperian sonnet is arranged in three 
quatrains and a couplet: a, b, a, b, c, d, c, d, 
e- f, e, f, g, g: 

That time of year thou may'st in me behold, 
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang 
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold. 
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. 
In me thou seest the t■v^dlight of such day 
As after sun-set fadeth in the west. 
Which by and by black night doth take away, 
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest: 
In me thou seest the glowing of such fire, 
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, 
As the death-bed whereon it must expire, 
Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by. 
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong, 
To love that well which thou must leave ere long. 



xliv Palgrave^s Golden Treasury 

The Ode. — The ode is usually composed of 
lines of varying length, and divided into stanzas, 
or strophes. In the so-called "Pindaric" ode 
of Cowle}'- and his imitators, these strophes are 
entirel}^ irregular in length and form. See Dry- 
den's Alexander's Feast for an example. 

In the Pindaric ode proper, the stanzas are 
arranged in triads of strophe, antistrophe, and 
epode, and these correspond throughout. That 
is, some arrangement of lines and rhymes it- 
selected for the strophe and preserved through 
all the succeeding strophes and antistrophes, 
with a different arrangement for the epode, 
which is likewise preserved through the follow- 
ing epodes. See Gray's The Bard. 

Many simpler arrangements of more or less 
regular stanzas are also called odes, such as the 
familiar odes of Shelley and Keats. 

French Forms. — In recent years there has 
been a revival of numerous old French forms of 
verse, such as the ballade, the rondeau, the 
TRIOLET, etc. Many of them are extremely 
elaborate and- artificial, making much use o^ 
the element of refrain. They are of value chiefly 
as exercises of the fancy and of technical skill. 
Seldom is poetry of the first order composed in 
them and they call for no extended description 
here. 



The Study of Poetry -Iv 

KINDS OF POETRY 

Poetry may be divided into three large classes, 
Epic, Lyric, and Dramatic, with numerous 
minor classes subdividing and to some extent 
overlapping these. 

Epic Poetry. — Epic poetry was originally the 
poetry of recital or of rude chant. It is objec- 
tive; that is, it deals with external events and 
seldom expresses the feelings of the poet. It is 
mainly narrative, usually of great length, and 
in its earlier examples treats of the deeds and 
prowess of some hero or tribe. A distinction 
may be made between the early folk-epic, or 
hero-saga, and its later developments or imita- 
tions. The former is comparatively simple and 
of obscure origm, being sometimes a product of 
slow growth and the work of various bards. 
Such are the Iliad, the Nihelungenlied, and 
Beowulf. The character of the folk-epic can- 
not of course be adequately shown in an extract, 
but possibly* something of its spirit and general 
manner may be thus conveyed. The following 
is from our Old English epic, the alliterative 
poem of three thousand lines w^hich recounts 
the deeds of the Teutonic hero Beowulf, who 
delivered the country of the Danes from a 
draffon : 



xlvi 



Palgrave's Golden Treasury 



llien he saw mid the war-gems a weapon of factory, 

An ancient giant-sword, of edges a-doughty, 

Glory of warriors: of weapons 'twas choicest, 

Only 'twas larger than any man else was 

Able to bear to the battle-encounter, 

The good and splendid work of the giants. 

He grasped then the sword-hilt, brandished his ring-sword; 

Hopeless of living, hotly he smote her, 

That the fiend-woman's neck firmly it grappled, 

Broke through her bone-joints, the bill fully pierced her 

Fate-cursed body, she fell to the ground then: 

The hand-sword was bloody, the hero exulted. 

(J. L. Hall's Translation.) 

The ART-EPIC arises at a stage of higher devel- 
opment, and is invariably the work of a single 
poet who elaborates his story with all the devices 
of a perfected art. The best type of this is the 
great Roman epic of the Aeneid. Though Virgil 
professedly followed Homer, writing a heroic 
poem and employing indeed some of the same 
legends, the difference of treatment may be felt 
in almost every line. The primitive character 
is gone; the later poet is manifestly far removed 
from the events which he describes, and literary 
embellishment is more constantly added to direct 
narration. The following lines describe Aeneas's 
departure from Carthage, on his way to found 
Rome, at the bidding of a messenger from 
heaven : 

Now at the last, Troy's chief, by the sudden vision appalled, 
Started from slumber, and loudly his sleeping manners 
railed: 



The Study of Poetry xlvii 

"Gallants! waken in haste! Each man to his bench and 
his oar! 

Hoist all sails with a will! From the heavenly heights 
as before, 

Comes an immortal God, sent do\«i mth a mighty com- 
mand 

Straight to depart, and to sever the twisted cables from 
land. 

Holiest one! we obey thee, whatever thy title on high; 

Lo! with rejoicing hearts to perform thy bidding we fly. 

Be thou graciously near us, and make yon stars of the sky 

Herald us weather fair." As he spake, from the scab- 
bard his sword 

Flamed as the lightning flashes, and sundered swiftly the 
cord. 

All are aglow, heave gaily amain, haste gladly to do. 

Land in the chstance fades, sails cover the seas, and the 
crew 

Labor the foaming waters, and cleave bright billows of 
blue. 

(Bowen's Translation.) 

Sometimes the later poet attempts to imitate 
the simplicity of the more primitive epic, as 
Matthew Arnold has done in Sohrab and Rustum. 
On the other hand the modern epic jDoet may 
quite depart from the subjects and methods of 
the early bards, and produce a great historical, 
allegorical, or religious epic, like Camoen's 
Lusiad, Spenser's Faerie Queene, or Milton's 
Paradise Lost. 

The FOLK-BALLAD, though much briefer and 
partaking of a lyric character, remains essentially 
objective and must be regarded as a variety of 
epic poetry. There are numerous English ballads 



xlviii Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

of unknown origin, like Robin Hood or the Battle 
of Otterhurn, and also numerous later ones, 
especially since the time of Scott, composed in 
more or less close imitation of them. The char- 
acter of the rude, anonymous ballad is well 
illustrated by the opening stanzas of Sir Patrick 
Spence: 

The king sits in Dumferling toune, 

Drinking the blude-reid wine: 
"O whar will I get guid sailor, 

To sail this schip of mine?" 

Up and spak an eldern knicht, 

Sat at the king's richt kne: 
"Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor, 

That sails upon the se." 

The METRICAL TALE is another important 
variety of the epic. It is usually highly romantic, 
deriving its themes from deeds of chivalry, from 
oriental manners, and the like. Such are Scott's 
longer poems, Byron's The Bride of Abydos, etc. 
Sometimes the metrical tale is quite modern in 
setting and spirit, as in Tennyson's English 
Idyls. 

Lyric Poetry. — Lyric poetry is the poetry of 
song, though now seldom actually meant to be 
sung. It is more or less subjective — that is, it 
springs from and expresses the feelings of the 
poet, and appeals less to the love of incident than 



The Study of Poetry xlix 

to the emotional and aesthetic sensibihties of the 
reader. It includes nearly all short poems and 
many of considerable length — the great bulk, 
indeed, of modern verse — and the sources of its 
inspiration cover the entire range of human feel- 
ing, from the religious worshiper's hymn or the 
mother's tender lullaby over her sleeping infant 
to the warrior's fierce cry of battle and victory. 
Examples rise in perplexing number: 

Take, O take those lips away 

That so sweetly were forsworn, 
And those eyes, the break of day, 

Lights that do mislead the mom; 
But my kisses bring again. 

Bring again — 
Seals of love, but seal'd in vain, 
Seal'd in vain I 

— Shakspere. 
Hail to thee, bHthe Spirit! 

Bird thou never wert, 
That from heaven or near it 

Pourest thy full heart 
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. 

— Shelley. 
Sweet and low, sweet and low, 

Wind of the western sea, 
Low, low, breathe and blow, 

Wind of the western seal 
Over the rolling waters go, 
Come from the dying moon, and blow. 

Blow him again to me; 
While my Uttle one, while my pretty one, sleeps. 

— Tennyson. 

Under the general head of lyric poetry must 
be included a number of more or less speciahzed 



1 Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

varieties, such as elegies, or raourning poems, 
of which Milton's Lycidas is the great EngUsh 
example; epithalamia, or marriage hymns, 
like Spenser's Epithalamion; and odes and 
SONNETS, both of which have been more fully- 
described in the preceding section on Poetic 
Form. 

Dramatic Poetry. — This is the poetry of en- 
acted life. In it the poet drops the role of 
narrator or interpreter and simply presents 
his characters, allowing them to speak and 
act for themselves. Sometimes poetic drama 
is written only to be read, when we give it the 
name of '^ closet-drama," but in the greatest 
period of the English drama, the time of Queen 
Elizabeth, it was invariably intended for actual 
representation on the stage and the productions 
were called simply ''plays." Plays are com- 
monly classified as either tragedies or com- 
edies. A tragedy is solemn and loft}^ in char- 
acter, usually portraying the struggle of an 
individual against fate, and moving to a fatal 
issue. Hamlet and Macbeth are familiar examples. 
Comedy, on the other hand, presents a more or 
less amusing plot with a happy ending. Usually 
only the higher class of romantic comedies, such 
as The Merchant of Venice and As You Like It, 
are cast in poetic form; when comedy descends 



The Study of Poetry li 

toward the level of farce, its natural vehicle 
is prose. 

To all these varieties of poetry — epic, lyric, 
and dramatic, — may be added some others not 
easily classifiable, such as pastorals, satires, 
EPIGRAMS, and the great body of reflective and 
didactic verse. 

READING AND INTERPRETATION 

There are obviously several kinds of enjoy- 
ment to be derived from poetry. The first is 
the simple, immediate sense of something beau- 
tiful or moving — the enjoyment which the poet 
meant to give, and the only enjoyment which 
the unschooled and perhaps even the average 
hearer or reader ever gets. Nothing should be 
allowed to obscure or diminish this enjoyment, 
and the advice given by Dr. Johnson in the 
preface to his edition of Shakspere in the year 
1765 is well worth dwelling on: 

"Notes are often necessary, but they are necessary 
evils. Let him that is yet unacquainted with the powers 
of Shakespeare, and who desires to feel the highest pleas- 
sure that the drama can give, read every play, from the 
first scene to the last, with utter negligence of all his 
commentators. When his fancy is once on the wing, let it 
not stoop at correction or explanation. When his atten- 
tion is strongly engaged, let it disdain alike to turn aside 
to the name of Theobald and of Pope. Let him read on 
through brightness and obscurity, through integrity and 



Hi Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

corruption; let liim preserve his comprehension of the 
dialogue and his interest in the fable. And when the 
pleasures of novelty have ceased, let liim attempt exact- 
ness, and read the commentators." 

It is a cardinal principle in the interpretation 
of poetry that to feel is better than to Imow, or 
rather that, except possibly in the severest 
orders of didactic verse, feeling is the only true 
knowledge. To know without feeling is after 
all not to understand; none but he who follows 
iiis poet with lively sympathy, wdth kindled 
imagination, with sharpened sensibility to all 
beauty and power, can have any true or vital 
knowledge of him. 

Poetry, then, should first of all be read, earn- 
estly read, — neither studied on the one hand, 
nor skimmed on the other. It should be read 
aloud, if possible, both that the reading may be 
done with care, and that the ear may get in 
reality, and not through imagination only, the 
melodies and harmonies of the verse. So organic 
are these musical elements in all good poetry, 
so intimately connected with the poet's thought 
and feeling, that the orly road to complete 
sympathy with him lies through them^ If the 
reader's metrical sense is defective or untrained, 
he must confine himself at first to the simpler 
and more marked rhythms, gradually perfect- 
ing his education in this particular in the only 



The Study of Poetry liii 

possible way, namely, by reading more and 
more verse. In time he will find, if he have 
any faculty for rhythm at all, that the freest 
of meters will give him little trouble and he 
will instinctively make the nicest necessary 
adjustments between rhetorical sense and metri- 
cal law. The teacher of poetry can devise no 
more profitable exercise than daily to read or 
have read a short selection of verse without 
comment or criticism, depending on the inherent 
power of the verse to command both interest 
and appreciation. 

Understanding is of course also necessary. 
For however strong may be the appeal of poetry 
to the senses, its language is the language of 
reason, and it has always a pure intellectual 
basis that cannot be ignored. One should not 
rest content until the words and sentences 
of a poem convey to him definite and accurate 
ideas. Therefore it may sometimes be necessary 
to paraphrase. For instance, readers who are 
unfamiliar with the Scotch dialect and with the 
less usual forms of our subjimctive construction 
may require to have Burns's lines, 

"O wad some power the giftie gie us," etc., 

turned into '^If .some power would but give us 
the ffirt," etc. But if we stop there, the poetry 



liv Palgrave^s Golden Treasury 

is destroyed. When the significance is grasped 
we must forget our paraphrase and revert to 
the poet's language. Indeed, any needless trans- 
lation of the poet's ideas and images into other 
words is to be sedulously avoided, since it carries 
with it the danger of irrecoverable loss. In a 
well known essay Matthew Arnold has declared 
that he would rather have a young person 
ignorant of the moon's diameter than have him 
think that a good paraphrase for Macbeth's 
query, 

"Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased?" 

would be '^Can you not wait upon the lunatic?" 
— and lovers of Shakspere find it not a little 
hard to forgive Arnold for having made current 
such a paraphrase even for the sake of impress- 
ing a wholesome lesson. 

In the more abstruse kinds of poetry, con- 
scious analysis and interpretation must doubt- 
less be resorted to freely. Some poetry of this 
class exists chiefly for the message or moral it 
conveys. Close study of it is therefore not only 
legitimate, but is demanded, and it may be 
pursued with little harm to the more purely 
poetic enjoyment, since that becomes then a 
minor consideration. Moreover, our skill in 
interpreting will grow with our practice until 



The Study of Poetry Iv 

even difficult poetry becomes simple to us and 
there is no longer any perceptible bar to the 
appreciation of both its truth and its beauty. 
When we have reached that stage, Shakspere 
and Daiite will not only yield delight as readily 
as Burns and Tennyson did once, but the delight 
will be greater in proportion to the greater ideas 
and truths that accompany the poet's imagina- 
tion and feeling. 

A further pleasure to be derived from poetry 
may lie in the discovery of the sources of 
our primary enjoyment. This may be made 
clearest, perhaps, by an illustration. Tennyson's 
Mariana is a poem that requires no interpreta- 
tion. One may read simjDly for the obvious 
beauty and feeling in them, such Imes as, 

''About a stone-cast from the wall 

A sluice with blacken'd waters slept, 
And o'er it many, round and small, 
The cluster'd marish-mosses crept." 

But, if he choose, he may return upon his read- 
ing and trace the pleasurable effects to their 
source. He will then discover that there is 
music for the ear in the rich rhymes and the 
alliterated syllables, that there is pleasure in 
meeting with such words as " sluice " and " marish " 
in poetic surroundings, that a subtle harmony 
is to be detected between Mariana's depression 



Ivi Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

of Spirit and the blackened, sleeping waters that 
she looks upon, that the sense of sullen life and 
purposed action on the part of the waters, im- 
plied in the word ''slept," imparts an atmosphere 
of mystery and awe, that in the whole poem, 
indeed, though the words "monotony'' and 
"melancholy" are nowhere used, every thought 
and image contributes to produce a monotonous, 
melancholy effect. Many will protest against 
such analysis, as destroying the charm of poetry. 
To those who find it disenchanting, the simple 
advice is to let it alone. To all should be given 
a caution against pushing it too far, for it is 
precisely this kind of treatment that if over done 
will deaden literature instead of making it alive. 
Yet a certain amount of conscious study, pur- 
sued with reverence and sympathy, can scarcely 
result in harm. 

After all, to increase in every way possible our 
enjoyment of "the best that has been thought 
and said in the world" is the great object. Per- 
haps each one primarily demands of the poet his 
own best thoughts and dreams given such expres- 
sion as he himself is unable to give them. He 
goes to the poet, as it were, saying: "I have 
seen, in fact or in fancy, such and such things, 
I have felt thus and so. But if I tried to express 
it, I should not do myself justice. My words 



The Study of Poetry Ivii 

are poor, and I have no skill to shape them 
aright. Do you do it for me." And to one who 
looks out upon nature, filled with the palpi- 
tating joy of life, a Tennyson interprets the 
throstle's song: 

" 'Summer is coming, summer is coming, 
I know it, I know it, I know it, 
Light again, leaf again, life again, love again/ 
Yes, my wild little poet;" 

and to one oppressed with sorrow a Longfellow 
tells how 

''Into each life some rain must fall. 

Some days must be dark and dreary." 

Thus, the needed expression is supplied, and 
the pent-up feelings find an outlet. 

Yet something more than this is possible. 
The great poets have visions that we have not 
seen, thoughts that never crossed our brain. 
To follow and find these, to come into touch 
with Wordsworth's subtle sympathies, to rise 
to the sublimity of Milton's lofty conceptions, 
to sound the depths of Shakspere's knowledge 
of the human soul, are things that wait only 
upon the constant reading and study of poetry. 
For the attainment of these, can any sacrifice 
of time or labor seem too great? 

Alphonso Gerald Newcomer. 



TO 

ALFRED TENNYSON 

POET LAUREATE 

This book in its progress has recalled often to my memory 
a man with whose friendship we were once honoured, 
to whom no region of English Literature was unfamiliar, 
and who, whilst rich in all the noble gifts of Nature, was 
most eminently distinguished by the noblest and the 
rarest, — just judgment and liigh-hearted patriotism. It 
would have been hence a peculiar pleasure and pride to 
dedicate what I have endeavoured to make a true national 
Anthology of three centuries to Henry Hallam. But he 
is beyond the reach of any human tokens of love and 
reverence; and I desire therefore to place before it a 
name united with his by associations wliich, while Poetry 
retains her hold on the minds of Englishmen, are not 
likely to be forgotten. 

Your encouragement, given while traversing the wild 
scenery of Trerjm Dinas, led me to begin the work; and 
it has been completed under your advice and assistance. 
For the favour now asked I have thus a second reason: 
and to this I may add, the homage which is your right 
as Poet, and the gratitude due to a Friend, whose regard 
I rate at no common value. 
45 



Permit me then to inscribe to yourself a book which, 
I hope, may be found by many a Hfelong fountain of 
innocent and exalted pleasure; a source of animation to 
friends when they meet; and able to sweeten soHtude 
itself with best society, — with the companionship of 
the wise and the good, with the beauty which the eye 
cannot see, and the music only heard in silence. If 
this Collection proves a storehouse of delight to Labour 
and to Poverty, — if it teaches those indifferent to the 
Poets to love them, and those who love them to love 
them more, the aim and the desire entertained in framing 
it will be fully accomplished. 

F.T.R 

May: 1861 



46 



PREFACE 

This little Collection differs, it is believed, from others in 
the attempt made to include in it all the best original 
Lyrical pieces and Songs in our language (save a veiy few 
regretfully omitted on account of length), by writers not 
hving, — and none beside the best. Many famihar verses 
will hence be met with; many also which shovild be famihar: 
— the Editor will regard as his fittest readers those who 
love Poetry so well, that he can offer them nothing not 
already knoTNTi and valued. 

The Editor is acquainted with no strict and exliaustive 
definition of Lyrical Poetry; but he has found the task of 
practical decision increase in clearness and in facility as 
he advanced with the Avork, whilst keeping in ^iew a few 
simple principles. Lyrical has been here held essentially 
to imply that each Poem shall turn on some single thought, 
feeling, or situation. In accordance with this, narrative, 
descriptive, and didactic poems, — unless accompanied by 
rapidity of movement, brevity, and the colouring of human 
passion, — have been excluded. Humourous poetry, ex- 
cept in the very unfrequent instances where a truly 
poetical tone pervades the whole, with what is strictly 
personal, occasional, and religious, has been considered 
foreign to the idea of the book. Blank verse and the ten- 
syllable couplet, with all pieces markedly dramatic, have 
been rejected as alien from what is commonly understood 
by Song, and rarely conforming to Lyrical conditions in 
treatment. But it is not anticipated, nor is it possible, 
that all readers shall think the line accurately drawn. 
Some poems, as Gray's Elegy, the Allegro and Penseroso, 
Wordsw^orth's Ruth or Campbell's Lord UHin, might be 
claimed with perhaps equal justice for a narrative or 
descriptive selection: whilst with reference especially to 
Ballads and Sonnets, the Editor can only state that he 
has taken his utmost pains to decide without caprice or 
partiality. 

47 



48 Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

This also is all he can plead in regard to a point even 
more liable to question; — what degree of merit should 
give rank among the Best. That a poem shall be worthy 
of the writer's genius, — that it shall reach a perfection 
commensurate with its aim, — that we should require 
finish in proportion to brevity, — that passion, colour, and 
originality cannot atone for serious imperfections in clear- 
ness, unity or truth, — that a few good hnes do not make 
a good poem, that popular estimate is serviceable as a 
guidepost more than as a compass,— above all, that excel- 
lence should be looked for rather in the whole than in the 
parts, — such and other such canons have been always 
steadily regarded. He may however add that the pieces 
chosen, and a far larger number rejected, have been care- 
fully and repeatedly considered; and that he has been 
aided throughout by two friends of independent and 
exercised judgment, besides the distinguished person 
addressed in the Dedication. It is hoped that by this 
procedure the volume has been freed from that one-sided- 
ness which must beset individual decisions: — but for the 
final choice the Editor is alone responsible. 

Chalmer's vast collection, with the whole works of all 
accessible poets not contained in it, and the best Anthol- 
ogies of different periods, have been twice systematically 
read through: and it is hence improbable that any omis- 
sions which may be regretted are due to oversight. The 
poems are printed entire, except in a very few instances 
where a stanza or passage has been omitted. These 
omissions have been risked only when the piece could be 
thus brought to a closer lyrical unity: and, as essentially 
opposed to this unity, extracts, obviously such, are 
excluded. In regard to the text, the purpose of the book 
has appeared to justify the choice of the most poetical 
version, wherever more than one exists; and much labour 
has been given to present each poem, in disposition, spell- 
ing, and punctuation, to the greatest advantage. 

In the arrangement, the most poetically-effective order 
has been attempted. The English mind has passed 
through phases of thought and cultivation so various and 
so opposed during these three centuries of Poetry, that a 
rapid passage between old and new, like rapid alteration, 
of the eye's focus in looking at the landscape, will always 



Preface 49 

be wearisome and hurtful to the sense of Beauty, The 
poems have been therefore distributed into Books corres- 
ponding, I to the ninety years closing about 1616, II thence 
to 1700, III to 1800, IV to the half century just ended. 
Or, looking at the Poets who more or less give each portion 
its distinctive character, they might be called the Books 
of Shakespeare, Milton, Gray, and Wordsworth, The 
volume, in this respect, so far as the limitations of its 
range allow, accurately reflects the natural growth and 
evolution of our Poetry. A rigidly chronological sequence, 
however, rather fits a collection aiming at instruction than 
at pleasure, and the Avisdom which comes through pleasure: 
— within each book the pieces have therefore been arranged 
in gradations of feeling or subject. And it is hoped that 
the contents of this Anthology will thus be found to pre- 
sent a certain unity, 'as episodes,' in the noble language 
of Shelley, 'to that great Poem which all poets, Hke the 
co-operating thoughts of one great mind, have built up 
since the beginning of the world.' 

As he closes his long survey, the Editor trusts he may 
add without egotism, that he has found the vague general 
verdict of popular Fame more just than those have 
thought, who, with too severe a criticism, would confine 
judgments on Poetry to ' the selected few of many gener- 
ations.' Not many appear to have gained reputation 
without some gift or performance that, in due degree, 
deserved it: and if no verses by certain writers who show 
less strength than sweetness, or more thought than 
mastery of expression, are printed in this volume, it 
should not be imagined that they have been excluded 
without much hesitation and regret, — far less that they 
have been slighted. Throughout this vast and pathetic 
array of Singers now silent, few have been honoured with 
the name Poet, and have not possessed a skill in words, a 
sympathy with beauty, a tenderness of feeling, or serious- 
aess in reflection, which render their works, although 
never perhaps attaining that loftier and finer excellence 
here required,— better worth reading than much of what 
fills the scanty hours that most men spare for self-improve- 
ment, or for pleasure in any of its more elevated and 
permanent forms. — And if this be true of even mediocre 
poetry, for how much more are we indebted to the best! 



50 Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

Like the fabled fountain of the Azores, but with a more 
various power, the magic of this Art can confer on each 
period of Hfe its appropriate blessing: on early years 
Experience, on maturity Calm, on age, Youthfvilness. 
Poetry gives treasures 'more golden than gold,' leading 
us in higher and healthier ways than those of the world, 
and interpreting to us the lessons of Nature. But she 
speaks best for herself. Her true accents, if the plan has 
been executed with success, may be heard throughout the 
following pages: — wherever the Poets of England are 
honoured, wherever the dominant language of the world 
is spoken, it is hoped that they will find fit audience. 

1861 

Some poems, especially in Book I, have been added: — 
either on better acquaintance; — in deference to critical 
suggestions ;— or unknown to the Editor when first 
gathering his harvest. For aid in these after-gleanings 
he is specially indebted to the excellent reprints of rare 
early verse given us by Dr. Hannah, Dr. Grosart, Mr. 
Arber, Mr. Bullen, and others, — and (in regard to the 
additions of 1883) to the advice of that distinguished 
Friend, by whom the final choice has been so largely 
guided. The text has also been carefully revised from 
authoritative sources. It has still seemed best, for many 
reasons, to retain the original limit by which the selection 
was confined to those then no longer living. But the 
Editor hopes that, so far as in him lies, a complete and 
definitive collection of our best Lyrics, to the central year 
of this fast-closing century, is now offered. 

1883-1890-1891 



l5ook Sim 



SPRING 

Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king; 
Then blooms each tiling, then maids dance in a Fing, 
Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing, 
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we to-witta-woo! 

5 The palm and may make country houses gay. 
Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day. 
And we hear aye birds tune tliis merry lay. 
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-^\itta-woo ! 

The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet, 
10 Young lovers meet, old wTves a-sunning sit, 
In every street these tunes our ears do greet. 
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! 
Spring! the sweet Spring! 
T. Nash. 
51 



52 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ii 



II 

THE FAIRY LIFE 

1 
Where the bee sucks, there suck I: 
In a cowsHp's bell I lie; 
There I couch, when owls do cry: 
Cln the bat's back I do fly 
5 A.her summer merrily. 

Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, 

Under the blossom that hangs on the bough 



Come unto these yellow sands, 

And then take hands: 
Courtsied w^hen you have, and kiss'd 
The wild waves whist, 
5 Foot it featly here and there; 

And, sweet Sprites, the burthen bear 
Hark, hark! 
Bow-bow. 
^ The watch-dogs bark: 

10 Bow-wow. 

Hark, hark! I hear 
The strain of strutting chanticleer 
Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow! 

W. Shakespeare 



IV 

SUMMONS TO LOVE 

Phoebus, arise! 

And paint the sable skies 

With azure, white, and red: 

Rouse Memnon's mother from her Tithon's bed 



iv] Book First 53 

That she may thy career with roses spread: 
The nightingales thy coining each-where sing: 
Make an eternal Spring! 

Give life to tliis dark world which lieth dead; 
5 Spread forth thy golden hair 

In larger locks than thou wast wont before, 
And eniperor-like decore 
With diadem of pearl thy temples fair: 
Chase hence the ugly night 
10 Which serves but to make dear thy glorious light. 

— This is that happy morn, 

That day, long-wished day 

Of all my life so dark, 

(If cruel stars have not my ruin sworn 
15 And fates my hopes betray), 

Which, purely white, deserves 

An everlasting diamond should it mark. 

This is the morn should bring unto this grove 

My Love, to hear and recompense my love. 
20 Fair King, who all preserves, 

But show thy blushing beams, 

And thou two sweeter eyes 

Shalt see than those which by Peneus' streams 

Did once thy heart surprize, 
25 Now, Flora, deck thyself in fairest guise: 

If that ye winds would hear 

A voice surpassing far Ampliion's lyre, 

Your furious chiding stay; 

Let Zephyr only breathe 
30 And with her tresses play. 

— The winds all silent are^ 

And Phoebus in his chair 

EnsafTroning sea and air 

Makes vanish every star: 
35 Night hke a drunkard reels 

Beyond the hills, to shun his flaming wheels: 

The fields with flowers are deck'd in every hue, 

The clouds with orient gold spangle their blue; 

Here is the pleasant place — 
40 And nothing wanting is, save She, alas! 

W. Drummond of Hawthornden 



54 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [y 

V 

TIME AND LOVE 
1 

When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced 
The rich proud cost of out- worn buried age; 
When sometime lofty towers I see down-razed, 
And brass eternal slave to mortal rage; 
5 When I have seen the hungry ocean gain 
Advantage on the kingdom of the shore, 
And the firm soil win of the watery main, 
Increasing store wdth loss, and loss with store; 
When I have seen such interchange of state, 
10 Or state itself confounded to decay, 

Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate — 
That Time will come and take my Love away: 

— This thought is as a death, which cannot choose 
But weep to have that which it fears to lose. 

W. Shakespeare 



Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, 
But sad mortahty o'ersways their power, 
How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, 
Whose action is no stronger than a flower? 
5 O how shall summer's honey breath hold out 
Against the wreckful siege of battering days, 
When rocks impregnable are not so stout 
Nor gates of steel so strong, but time decays? 
O fearful meditation! where, alack! 
10 Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid? 
Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back, 
Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid? 
O! none, unless tliis miracle have might. 
That in black ink my love may still shine bright. 

TT^. Shakespeare. 



'iij Book First 55 



VII 



THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE 

Come live with me and be my Love, 
i^nd we will all the pleasures "^prove 
That hills and valleys, dale and field, 
And all the craggy momitains yield. 

5 There will we sit upon the rocks 

And see the shepherds feed their flocks, 
By shallow rivers, to whose falls 
Melodious birds sing madrigals. 

There -^dll 1 make thee beds of roses 
iO And a thousand fragrant posies, 

A cap of flowers, and a kirtle 
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle, 

A govm made of the finest wool, 
Wiiich from our pretty lambs we pull, 
15 Fair Uned slippers for the cold, 

With buckles of the purest gold. 

A belt of straw and ivy buds 
With coral clasps and amber studs: 
And if these pleasures may thee move, 
Come live with me and be my Love. 

Thy silver dishes for thy meat 
As precious as the gods do eat, 
Shall on an ivory table be 
Prepared each day for thee and me. 

26 The shepherd swains shall dance and sing 

For thy delight each May-morning: 
If these delights thy mind may move. 
Then live with me and be my Love. 
C. Marlowe 



20 



56 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [viii 



OMNIA VINCIT 

Fain would I change that note 
To which fond Love hath charm'd me 
Long long to sing by rote, 
Fancjang that that harm'd me: 
5 Yet when this thought doth come 

*Love is the perfect sum 

Of all deUght/ 
I have no other choice 
Either for pen or voice 
10 To sing or write, 

Love! they wrong thee much 
That say thy sweet is bitter^ 
When thy rich fruit is such 

As notliing can be sweeter, 
15 Fair house of joy and bliss, 

Where truest pleasure is 
I do adore thee: 

1 know thee what thou art, 
I serve thee with my heart, 

20 And fall before thee! 

Anon. 



A MADRIGAL 

Crabbed Age and Youth 
Cannot live together: 
Youth is full of pleasance. 
Age is full of care; 
Youth like summer mom, 
Age like winter weather, 
Youth like summer brave. 
Age Hke winter bare: 



x] Book First 57 

Youth is full of sport, 

Age's breath is short, 

Youth is nimble, Age is lame; 

Youth is hot and bold, 
5 Age is weak and cold. 

Youth is wild, and Age is tame. — 

Age, I do abhor thee, 

Youth, I do adore thee; 

O! my Love, my Love is young' 
10 Age, I do defy thee — 

O sweet shepherd, hie thee, 

For methinks thou stay'st too long. 

W. SJmkespeare 



Under the greenwood tree 
Who loves to lie with me, 
15 And turn his merry note 

Unto the sweet bird's throat — 
Come hither, come hither, come liither' 
Here shall he see 
No enemy 
20 But winter and rough weather. 

Who doth ambition shun 
And loves to live i' the sun, 
Seeking the food he eats 
And pleased with what he gets — 
25 Come liither, come hither, come hitherl 

Here shall he see 
No enemy 
But winter and rough weather. 

W. Shakespeare 



58 Palgrave's Golden Treasury 



It was a lover and his lass 

With a hey and a ho, and a hey noninol 
That o'er the green corn-field did pass 
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, 
5 When birds do sing hey ding a ding. 

Sweet lovers love the Spring. 

Between the acres of the rye 
These pretty country folks would lie: 
This carol they began that hour, 
10 How that life was but a flower: 

And therefore take the present time 

With a hey and a ho and a hey noninol 
For love is crowned with the prime 
In spring time, the only pretty ring time, 
16 When birds do sing hey ding a ding: 
Sweet lovers love the Spring. 

W. Shakespeare 



PRESENT IN ABSENCE 

Absence, hear thovi this protestation 

Against thy strength. 

Distance, and length; 
Do what thou canst for alteration: 
5 For hearts of tiniest mettle 

Absence doth join, and Time doth settle. 

Who loves a mistress of such quality, 
His mind hath found 
Affection's ground 
10 Beyond time, place, and mortality. 

To hearts that cannot vary 
Absence is present. Time doth tarry. 



xiv] Book First 59 

By absence this good means I gain, 
That I can catch her, 
Where none can match her, 
In some close corner of my brain: 
5 There I embrace and kiss her; 

And so I both enjoy and miss her. 

J. Donne 



VIA AMORIS 

High- way, since you my chief Parnassus be, 
And that my Muse, to some ears not unsweet, 
Tempers her words to trampUng horses' feet 
More oft than to a chamber-melody, — 

5 Now, blessed you bear onward blessed me 
To her, where I my heart, safe-left, shall meet; 
My Muse and I must yovi of duty greet 
With thanks and wishes, wishing thankfully; 
Be you still fair, honour'd by public heed; 

10 By no encroachment wrong'd, nor time forgot; 
Nor blamed for blood, nor shamed for sinful deed; 
And that you know I en^y you no lot 
Of highest wish, I wish you so much bliss, — 
Hundreds of years you Stella's feet may kiss! 

Sir P. Sidney 



ABSENCE 

Being your slave, what should I do but tend 
Upon the hours and times of your desire? 
I have no precious time at all to spend 
Nor services to do, till you require: 
Nor dare I chide the world-without-end-hour 
Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you. 
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour 
When you have bid your servant once adieu: 



60 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [xiv 

Nor dare I question with my jealous thought 
Where you may be, or your affairs suppose, 
But hke a sad slave, stay and think of nought 
Save, where you are, how happy you make those; — - 
5 So true a fool is love, that in your will 
Though you do anytliing, he thinks no ill. 

W. Shakespeare 



How like a winter hath my absence been 
From Thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! 
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen, 
What old December's bareness everywhere! 
5 And yet this time removed was summer's time: 
The teeming autumn, big with rich increase, 
Bearing the wanton burden of the prime 
Like widow'd wombs after their lord's decease: 
Yet this abundant issue seem'd to me 
10 But hope of orphans, and unfather'd fruit; 
For summer and his pleasures wait on thee, 
And, thou away, the very birds are mute; 
Or if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer, 
That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near. 

W. Shakespeare 



XVI 

A CONSOLATION 

When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes 
I all alone be weep my outcast state. 
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, 
And look upon myself, and curse my fate; 
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope. 
Featured like liim, like him with friends possest. 
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope, 
With what I most enjoy contented least; 



xviii] Book First 61 

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, 
Haply I think on Thee — and then my state, 
Like to the lark at break of day arising 
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; 
5 For thy sweet love remember'd, such wealth brings 
That then I scorn to change my state with kings. 

W. Shakespeare 



THE UNCHANGEABLE 

O never say that I was false of heart. 
Though absence seem'd my flame to quahfy: 
As easy might I from myself depart 
As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie; 
5 That is my home of love; if I have ranged. 
Like him that travels, I return again. 
Just to the time, not with the time exchanged, 
So that myself bring water for my stain. 
Never believe, though in my nature reign'd 
10 All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood. 
That it could so preposterously be stain'd 
To leave for nothing all thy sum of good: 
For nothing this wide universe I call, 
Save thou, my rose: in it thou art my all. 

W. Shakespeare 



To me, fair Friend, you never can be old, 
For as you were when first your eye I eyed 
Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold 
Have from the forest shook three summers' pride; 

5 Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn tum'd 
In process of the seasons have I seen, 
Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd. 
Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green. 
Ah! yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand, 

10 Steal from his figure, and no pace perceived; 



62 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [xviii 

So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand, 
Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceived: 
For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred, — 
Ere you were born, was beauty's summer dead. 

W. Shakespeare 



ROSALINE 

Like to the clear in highest sphere 
Where all imperial glory shines, 
Of selfsame colour is her hair 
Whether unfolded, or in twines: 
5 Heigh ho, fair Rosaline! 

Her eyes are sapphires set in snow, 
Resembling heaven by every wink; 
The Gods do fear whenas they glow 
And I do tremble when I think 

10 Heigh ho, would she were mine! 

Her cheeks are like the blushing cloud 
That beautifies Aurora's face. 
Or like the silver crimson shroud 
That Phoebus' smiling looks doth grace; 

15 Heigh ho, fair Rosahne! 

Her lips are like two budded roses 
Whom ranks of lilies neighbour nigh. 
Within wliich bounds she balm encloses 
Apt to entice a deity: 

20 Heigh ho, would she were mine! 

Her neck is like a stately tower 
Where Love himself imprison' d lies, 
To watch for glances every hour 
From her divine and sacred eyes: 

25 Heigh ho, for Rosaline! 

Her paps are centres of delight, 
Her breasts are orbs of heavenly frame. 
Where Nature moulds the dew of light 
To feed perfection with the same: 

30 Heigh ho, would she were mine! 



XX j Book First 63 

With orient pearl, with ruby red, 
With marble white, with sapphire blue 
Her body every way is fed, 
Yet soft in touch and sweet in view^ 
5 Heigh ho, fair Rosaline! 

Nature herself her shape admires; 
The Gods^are wounded in her sight; 
And love forsakes his heavenly fires 
And at her eyes his brand doth light: 

10 Heigh ho, would she were mine! 

Then muse not, Nymphs, though I bemo'an 
The absence of fair Rosaline, 
Since for a fair there's fairer none, 
Nor for her virtues so di\dne: 

15 Heigh ho, fair Rosaline; 

Heigh ho, my heart! would God that she were mine! 

T. Lodge 

XX 

COLIN 

Beauty sat bathing by a spring 

Where fairest shades did hide her; 
The winds blew calm, the birds did sing, 
The cool streams ran beside her. 
5 My wanton thoughts enticed mine eye 
To see what was forbidden: 
But better memory said, fie! 
So vain desire was chidden: — 

Hey nonny nonny O! 
10 Hey nonny nonny 1 

Into a slumber then I fell. 

When fond imagination 
Seemed to see, but could not tell 
Her feature or her fashion. 
15 But ev'n as babes in dreams do smile. 
And sometimes fall a-weeping, 
So I awaked, as wise this while 
As when I fell a-sleeping: — 

Hey nonny nonny O! 
20 Hey nonny nonny! 

The Shepherd Tonie 



64 , Palyrave's Golden Treasury [xxi 



XXI 

A PICTURE 

Sweet Love, if thou wilt gain a monarch's glory, 
Subdue her heart, who makes me glad and sorry: 
Out of thy golden quiver 
Take thou thy strongest arrow 
That will through bone and ma-^row, 
And me and thee of grief and fear deliver: — 
But come behind, for if she look upon thee, 
Alas! poor Love! then thou art woe-begone thee! 

Anon. 



A SONG FOR MUSIC 

Weep you no more, sad fountains: — 

What need you flow so fast? 
Look how the snowy mountains 

Heaven's sun doth gently waste! 
5 But my Sun's heavenly eyes 

View not your weeping, 
That now lies sleeping 
Softly^ now softly lies, 
Sleeping. 

iO Sleep is a reconciling, 

A rest that peace begets: — • 
Doth not the sun rise smiling, 
When fair at even he sets? 

— Rest you, then, rest, sad eyes! 
15 Melt not in weeping! 

While She lies sleeping 
Softly, now softly lies. 
Sleeping! 

Anon. 



xxiv] Book First 65 



TO HIS LOVE 

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? 
Thou art more lovely and more temperate: 
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, 
And summer's lease hath all too short a date: 
5 Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, 
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd: 
And every fair from fair sometime declines, 
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd. 
But thy eternal summer shall not fade 
10 Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; 

Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade, 
When in eternal lines to time thou growest: — 
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see. 
So long lives tliis, and this gives life to thee. 

W. Shakespeare 



XXIV 

TO HIS LOVE 

When in the chronicle of wasted time 
I see descriptions of the fairest wights, 
And beauty making beautiful old rhyme 
In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights; 
5 Then in the blazon of sweet beauty's best 
Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, 
I see their antique pen would have exprest 
Ev'n such a beauty as you master now. 
So all their praises are but prophecies 
iO Of this our time, all, you prefiguring; 

And for they look'd but with di^^ning eyes. 
They had not skill enough your worth to sing: 
For we, which now behold these present days. 
Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise. 

TT^. Shakespeare 



66 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [xxv 



BASIA 

Turn back, you wanton flyer, 
And answer my desire 

With mutual greeting. 
Yet bend a little nearer, — 
5 True beauty still shines clearer 

In closer meeting! 
Hearts with hearts delighted 
Should strive to be united, 
Each other's arms with arms enchaining,— 
10 Hearts with a thouglit, 

Rosy lips with a kiss still entertaining. 

What harvest half so sweet is 
As still to reap the kisses 
Grown ripe in sowing? 
15 And straight to be receiver 

Of that which thou art giver. 

Rich in bestowing? 
There is no strict observing 
Of times' or seasons' swerving, 
20 There is ever one fresh spring abiding; — 
Then what we sow with our hps 
Let us reap, love's gains dividing. 

7". Campion 



XXVI 

ADVICE TO A GIRL 

Never love unless you can 

Bear with all the faults of manl 

Men sometimes will jealous be 

Though but little cause they see, 

And hang the head as discontent, 

And speak what straight they will repent. 



xxvii] Book First 67 

Men, that but one Saint adore, 
Make a show of love to more; 
Beauty must be scorn'd in none. 
Though but truly served in one: 
5 For what is courtship but disguise? 

True hearts may have dissembling eyes. 

Men, w^hen their affairs require, 
Mast awhile themselves retire; 
Sometimes hunt, and sometimes hawk, 
10 And not ever sit and talk: — 

If these and such-like you can bear, 
Then like, and love, and never fear! 
T. Campion 



XXVII 

LOVE'S PERJURIES 

On a day, alack the day! 
Love, whose month is ever May, 
Spied a blossom passing fair 
Playing in the wanton air: 
5 Through the velvet leaves the ^^^nd, 

All unseen, 'gan passage find; 
That the lover, sick to death, 
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath. 
Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow; 

10 Air, would I might triumph so! 

But, alack, my hand is sworn 
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn > 
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet; 
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet. 

15 Do not call it sin in me 

That I am forsworn for thee* 
Thou for whom Jove would swear 
Juno but an Ethiope were, 
And deny himself for Jove, 

20 Turning mortal for thy love. 

W. Shakespears 



68 PaJgrave's Golden Treasury [xxviii 



A SUPPLICATION 

Forget not yet the tried intent 
Of such a truth as I have meant; 
My great travail so gladly spent. 

Forget not yet! 

5 Forget not yet when first began 

The weary life ye know, since whan 
The suit, the service none tel) can; 
Forget not yet' 

Forget not yet the great assays, 
10 The cruel wrong, tiie scornful wayv'?, 

The painful patience in delays, 

Forget not yet I 

Forget not! O, forget not this^, 
How long ago hath been, and is 
15 The niind that never meant amiss — 

Forget not yet! 

Forget not then thine own approved 
The which so long hath thee so loved, 
Whose steadfast faith yet never moved — 
20 Forget not this! 

Sir T. Wyat 



XXIX 

TO AURORA 

O if thou knew'st how thou thyself dost harm, 
And dost prejudge thy bliss, and spoil my rest; 
Then thou would'st melt the ice out of thy breast 
And thy relenting heart would kindly warm. 
O if thy pride did not our joys controul, 
What world of loving wonders should'st thou seel 
For if I saw thee once transformed in me, 
Then in thy bosom I would pour my soul; 



xxxl Book First 69 

Then all my thoughts should in thy \isage sliine, 
And if that aught niischanced thou should' st not moan 
Nor bear the burthen of thy griefs alone; 
No, I would have my share in what were thine: 
5 And whilst we thus should make our sorrows one, 
This happy harmony would make them none. 

W. Alexander, Earl of Steriine 



IN LAC RIM AS 

I saw my Lady weep, 
And Sorrow proud to be advanced so 
In those fair eyes where all perfections keep. 

Her face was full of woe, 
5 But such a woe (believe me) as wins more hearts 
Than Mirth can do with her enticing parts. 

Sorrow was there made fair, 
And Passion, wise; Tears, a delightful thing; 
Silence, beyond all speech," a wisdom rare: 
10 She made her sighs to sing. 

And all tilings with so sweet a sadness move 
As made my heart at once both grieve and love. 

O fairer than aught else 
The world can show, leave off in time to grieve? 
15 Enough, enough: your joyful look excels: 
Tears kill the heart, beheve. 
O strive not to be excellent in woe, 
Which only breeds your beauty's overthrow. 

Anon. 



70 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [xxxi 



XXXI 

TRUE LOVE 

Let me not to the marriage of true minds 
Admit impediments. Love is not love 
Which alters when it alteration finds, 
Or bends with the remover to remove: — • 
5 O no! it is an ever fixed mark 

That looks on tempests, and is never shaken, 
It is the star to every wandering bark. 
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. 
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks 
10 Within his bending sickle's compass come; 

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks. 
But bears it out ev'n to the edge of doom: — 
If this be error, and upon me proved, 
I never writ, nor no man ever loved. 

W. Shakespeare 



XXXII 

A DITTY 

My true-love hath my heart, and I have his, 
By just exchange one for another given: 
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss, 
There never was a better bargain driven: 
a My true-love hath my heart, and I have his. 

His heart in me keeps him and me in one. 
My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides; 
He loves my heart, for once it was his own, 
I cherish his because in me it bides: 
10 My true-love hath my heart, and I have his. 

Sir P. Sidney 



xxxiv] Book First 71 



LOVE'S INSIGHT 

Though others may Her brow adore 
Yet more must I, that therein see far more 
Than any other's eyes have power to see: 
She is to me 
5 More than to any others she can bel 
I can discern more secret notes 
That in the margin oi her cheeks Love quotes, 
Than any else besides have art to read: 
No looks proceed 
10 From those fair eyes but to me wonder breed. 

Anon. 



LOVE'S OMNIPRESENCE 

Were I as base as is the lowly plain, 
And you, my Love, as high as heaven above, 
Yet should the thoughts of me your humble swain 
Ascend to heaven, in honour of my Love. 

5 Were I as high as heaven above the plain, 
And you, my Love, as humble and as low 
As are the deepest bottoms of the main, 
Whereso'er you were, with you my love should go. 
Were you the earth, dear Love, and I the skies, 
My love should shine on you like to the sun, 

10 And look upon you with ten thousand eyes 

Till heaven wax'd blind, and till the world were done. 
Whereso'er I am, below, or else above you, 
Whereso'er you are^. my heart shall truly love you. 

J. Sylvester 



72 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [xxxv 



XXXV 

CARPE DIEM 

O Mistress mine, where are you roaming? 
O stay and hear! your true-love's coming 

That can sing both high and low; 
Trip no further, pretty sweeting, 
5 Journeys end in lovers meeting — 

Every wise man's son doth know. 

What is love? 'tis not hereafter; 
Present mirth hath present laughter; 
What's to come is still unsure: 
10 In delay there lies no plenty, — 

Then come kiss me, Sweet-and-twenty, 
Youth's a stuff will not endure. 

W. Shakespeare 



AN HONEST AUTOLYCUS 

Fine knacks for ladies, cheap, choice, brave, and new, 

Good penny-worths, — but money cannot move: 
I keep a fair but for the Fair to view; 
A beggar may be liberal of love. 
d Though all my wares be trash, the heart is true — 
The heart is true. 

Great gifts are guiles and look for gifts again; 
My trifles come as treasures from my mind; 
It is a precious jewel to be plain; 
10 Sometimes in shell the orient'st pearls we find:— 
Of others take a sheaf, of me a grain! 
Of me a grain! 

Anon. 



xxxviiil Book First 73 



WINTER 

When icicles hang by the wall 

And Dick the shepherd blows his nai?, 

And Tom bears logs into the hall, 
And niilk comes frozen home in pail; 

When blood is nipt, and ways be foul, 

Then nightly sings the staring owl 
Tu-whit ! 

Tu-who! A merry note! 

While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. 

When all about the wind doth blow, 
And coughing drowns the parson's saw^ 

And birds sit brooding in the snow, 
And Marian's nose looks red and raw; 

When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl — 

Then nightly sings the staring owl 
Tu-whit ! 

Tu-who! A merry note! 

While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. 

W. Shakespeare 



XXXVIII 

That time of year thou may'st in me behold 
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang 
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, 
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang* 

5 In me thou see'st the twilight of such day 
As after sunset fadeth in the west, 
Which by and by black night doth take away, 
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest: 
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire, 

10 That on the ashes of his youth doth lie 
As the death bed whereon it must expire. 
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by: 



74 Palgrave's Golden Treasury/ [xxxviii 

— ^This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more 

strong, 
To love that well which thou must leave ere long. 

W. Shakes veare 



MEMORY 

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought 
I summon up remembrance of things past, 
I sigh the lack of many a tiling I sought, 
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste; 
5 Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, 

For precious friends hid in death's dateless night, 
And weep afresh love's long-since-cancell'd woe, 
And moan the expense of many a vanish' d sight. 
Then can T grieve at grievances foregone, 
10 And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er 
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, 
Which I new pay as if not paid before: 

— But if the while I think on thee, dear Friend, 
All losses are restored, and sorrows end. 

W. Shakespeare 



XL 

SLEEP 

Come, Sleep: O Sleep! the certain knot of peace. 
The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe, 
The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release, 
Th' indifferent judge between the high and low; 
With shield of proof shield me from out the prease 
Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw: 

make in me those civil wars to cease; 

1 will good tribute pay, if thou do so. 



xlii] Book First 75 

Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed, 
A chamber deaf of noise and blind of light, 
A rosy garland and a weary head: 
And if tliese things, as being thine in right, 
5 Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me, 
Livelier than elsewhere, Stella's image see. 

• Sir P. Sidney 



XLI ♦ 

REVOLUTIOXS 

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore 
So do our minutes hasten to their end; 
Each changing place with that which goes before. 
In sequent toil all forwards do contend. 
5 Nativity, once in the main of light, 

Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd. 
Crooked eclipses 'gainst liis glory fight, 
And Time that gave, doth now his gift confound. 
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth, 
10 And delves the parallels in beauty's brow; 
Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, 
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow: — 
And yet, to times in hope, my verse shall stand 
Praising Thy worth, despite his cruel hand. 

W. Shakespeare 



Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing, 
And like enough thou know'st thy estimate: 
The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; 
My bonds in thee are all determinate. 
For how do I hold thee but by thy granting? 
And for that riches where is my deserving? 
The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, 
And so my patent back again is swerving. 



76 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [xlii 

Thyself, thou gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing, 
Or me, to whom thou gav'st it, else mistaking; 
So thy great gift, upon misprision growing. 
Comes home again, on better judgment making. 
5 Thus have I had thee as a dream doth flatter; 
In sleep, a king; but waking, no such matter. 

W. Shakespeare ' 



« XLIII 

THE LIFE WITHOUT PASSION 

They that have power to hurt, and will do none, 
That do not do the thing they most do show, 
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, 
Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow, — 
5 They rightly do inherit heaven's graces, 
And husband nature's riches from expense; 
They are the lords and owners of their faces. 
Others, but stewards of their excellence. 
The summer's flower is to the summer sweet, 
10 Though to itself it only live and die; 

But if that flower with base infection meet, 
The basest weed outbraves his dignity: 

For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; 

Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds. 

W. Shakespeare 



XLIV 

THE LOVER'S APPEAL 

And wilt thou leave me thus? 
Say nay! say nay! for shame 
To save thee from the blame 
Of all my grief and grame. 
And wilt thou leave me thus? 
Say nay! say nay! 



xjv] Book First 77 

And wilt thou leave me thus, 
That hath loved thee so long 
In wealth and woe among: 
And is thy heart so strong 
fr As for to leave me thus? 

Say nay! say nay! 

And wilt thou leave me thus, 
That hath given thee my heart 
Never for to depart * 

CO Neither for pain nor smart: 

And wilt thou leave me thus? 
Say nay! say pay! 

And wilt thou leave me thus, 
And have no more pity 
15 Of him that loveth thee? 

Alas! thy cruelty! 
And wilt thou leave me thus? 
Say nay! say nay! 

Sir T. Wyat 



XLV 

THE NIGHTINGALE 

As it fell upon a day 
In the merry month of May, 
Sitting in a pleasant shade 
Which a grove of myrtles made, 

5 Beasts did leap and birds did sing, 
Trees did grow and plants did springs 
Every thing did banish moan 
Save the Nightingale alone. 
She, poor bird, as all forlorn, 

10 Lean'd her breast up-till a thom^ 
And there sung the dolefulPst ditty 
That to hear it was great pity. 
Fie, fie, fie, now would she cry: 
Teru, teru, by and by: 

15 That to hear her so complain 

Scarce I could from tears refrain- 



78 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [^Iv 

For her griefs so lively shown 
Made me think upon mine own. 
— Ah, thought I, thou mourn 'st in vain. 
None takes pity on thy pain: 
5 Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee, 
Ruthless beasts, they will not cheer thee; 
King Pandion, he is di^ad. 
All thy friends are lapp'd in lead: 
All thy fellow birds do sing 
10 Careless of thy sorrowing: 

Even so, poor bird, like thee 
None alive will pity me. 

R. Barnefield 



Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night, 
Brother to Death, in silent darkness born, 
Reheve my languish, and restore the light; 
With dark forgetting of my care return. 

5 And let the day be time enough to mourn 
The shipwreck of my ill-adventured youth: 
Let waking eyes suffice, to wail their scorn. 
Without the torment of the night's untruth. 
Cease, dreams, the images of day-desires, 

10 To model forth the passions of the morrow; 
Never let rising Sun approve you liars, 
To add more grief to aggravate my sorrow: 
Still let me sleep, embracing clouds in vain, 
And never wake to feel the day's disdain. 

S. Daniel 



The nightingale, as soon as April bringeth 
Unto her rested sense a perfect waking, 

While late-bare earth, proud of new clothing, springeth, 
Sings out her woes, a thorn her song-book making; 



xlviii] Book First 79 

Aiid mournfully bewailing, 
Her throat in tunes expresseth 
What grief her breast oppresseth 
For Tereus' force on xier chaste will prevailing. 

5 O Philomela fair, O take some gladness, 
That here is juster cause of plaintful sadness: 
Tliine earth now springs, mine fadeth; 
Thy thorn without, my thorn my heart invadeth. 

Alas, she hath no other cause of anguish 
10 But Tereus' love, on her by strong hand wroken, 
Wherein she suffering, all her spirits languish, 
Full v/ornanlike complains her will was broken. 
But I, who, daily craving. 
Cannot have to content me, 
15 Have more cause to lament me, 

Since wanting is more woe than too much having. 

O Philomela fair, O take some gladness 
That here is juster cause of plaintful- sadness: 
Tliine earth now springs, mine fadeth; 
iO Thy thorn without, my thorn my heart invadeth. 

Sir P. Sidney 



XLVIII 

FRUSTRA 

Take, O take those lips away 
That so sweetly were forsworn, 
And those eyes, the break of day, 
Lights that do mislead the morn: 
But my kisses bring again, 

Bring again — • 
Seals of love, but seal'd in vain, 

Seal'd in vain! 
^ W Shakespeare 



80 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [xlix 



LOVE'S FAREWELL 

Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part, — 
Nay I have done, you get no more of me; 
And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart, 
That thus so cleanly I myself can free; 
5 Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows, 
And when we meet at any time again, 
Be it not seen in either of our brows 
That we one jot of former love retain. 
Now at the last gasp of love's latest breath, 
10 When his pulse failing, passion speechless lies. 
When faith is kneeling by his bed of death, 
And innocence is closing up his eyes, 
— Now if thou would'st, when all have given him over, 
From death to life thou might'st him yet recoverl 

M. Drayton 



IN IMAGINE PERTRANSIT HOMO 

Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow! 

Though thou be black as night 

And she made all of light, 
Yet follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow! 

5 Follow her, whose hght thy hght depriveth! 
Though here thou liv'st disgraced. 
And she in heaven is placed, 
Yet follow her whose light the world reviveth? 

Follow those pure beams, whose beauty burneth, 
10 That so have scorched thee 
As thou still black must be 
Till her kind beams thy black to brightness turneth. 



Ui] Book First 81 

Follow her, while yet her glory shineth! 

There comes a luckless night 

That will dim all her light; 
— And this the black unhappy shade divineth. 

5 Follow still, since so thy fates ordained! 
The sun must have his shade. 
Till both at once do fade, — 
The sun still proved, the shadow still disdained. 

T. Campion 



BLIND LOVE 

O me! what eyes hath Love put in my head 
Which have no correspondence with true sight: 
Or if they have, where is my judgment fled 
That censures falsely what they see aright? 

5 If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote, 
What means the world to say it is not so? 
If it be not, then love doth well denote 
Love's eye is not so true as all men^s: No, 
How can it? O how can love's eye be true, 

10 That is so vex'd with watching and with tears? 
No marvel then though I mistake my view: 
The sun itself sees not till heaven clears. 

O cunning Love! with tears thou keep'st me blind. 
Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find! 

W. Shakespeare 



LII 

Sleep, angry beauty, sleep and fear not me I 
For who a sleeping lion dares provoke? 

It shall suffice me here to sit and see 

Those lips shut up that never kindly spoke: 

What sight can more content a lover's mind 

Than beauty seeming harmless, if not kind? 



82 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [lii 

\ 
My v\^ords have charm'd her, for secure she sleeps, 
Though guilty much of wrong done to my love; 
And in her slumber, see! she close-eyed weeps: 
Dreams often more than waking passions move. 
5 Plead, Sleep, my cause, and make her soft Hke thee: 
That she in peace may wake and pity me. 

T. Camfion 



THE UNFAITHFUL SHEPHERDESS 

While that the sun with his beams hot 
Scorched the fruits in vale and mountain, 
Philon the shepherd, late forgot, 
Sitting beside a crystal fountain, 
5 In shadow of a green oak tree 

Upon liis pipe this song play'd he: 
Adieu, Love, adieu. Love, untrue Love, 
Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love; 
Your mind is light, soon lost for new love. 

10 So long as.. I was in your sight 

I was your heart, your soul and treasure; 
And evermore you sobb'd and sigh'd 
Burning in flames beyond all measure: 
— Three days endured your love to me, 

15 And it was lost in other three! 

Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love, 
Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu. Love; 
Your mind is light, soon lost for new love. 

Another Shepherd you did see 
20 To whom your heart was soon enchained; 
Full soon your love was leapt from me, 
Full soon my place he had obtained. 
Soon came a third, your love to win, 
And we were out and he was in. 
25 Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love, 
Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu. Love; 
Your mind is light, soon lost for new love. 



Book First 83 

Sure you have made me passing glad 
That you your mind so soon removed;. 
Before that I the leisure had 
To choose you for my best beloved: 

For all your love was past and done 

Two days before it was begun: — 
j^dieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love, 
Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love; 
Your mind is hght, soon lost for new love. 

Anon, 



ADVICE TO A LOVER 

The sea hath many thousand sands, 
The sun hath motes as many; 
The sky is full of stars, and Love 
As full of woes as any: 
Believe me, that do know the elf, 
And make no trial by thyself. 

It is in truth a pretty toy 

For babes to play withal: — • 

But O! the honeys of our youth 

Are oft our age's gall! 

Self-proof in time will make thee knaw 

He was a prophet told thee so; , 

A prophet that, Cassandra-like, 

Tells truth without belief; 

For headstrong Youth will run his rai^e, 

Although his goal be grief: — 

Love's Martyr, when his heat is past, 

Proves Care's Confessor at the last. 

4non 



84 Pal grave's Golden Treasury [Iv 

LV 

A RENUNCIATION 

Thou art not fair, for all thy red and white, 
For all those rosy ornaments in thee, — 

Thou art not sweet, though made of mere delight 
Nor fair, nor sweet — unless thou pity me! 
5 I will not soothe thy fancies; thou shait prove 

That beauty is no beauty without love. 

— Yet love not me. nor seek not to allure 

My thoughts with beauty, were it more divine: 
Thy smiles and kisses I cannot endure, 
10 I'll not be wrapp'd up in those arms of thine - 
— Now show it, if thou be a woman right — 
Iknbrace and kiss and love me in despite! 

T. Campion 

LVI 

Blow, blow, thou winter wind, 

Thou art not so unkind 

As man's ingratitude; 

Thy tooth is not so keen 
5 Because thou art not seen, 

Although thy breath be rude. 
Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly: 
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly: 

Then, heigh ho! the holly! 
10 This life is most jolly. 

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, 
Thou dost not bite so nigh 
As benefits forgot: 
Though thou the waters warp, 
15 Thy sting is not so sharp 

As friend remember' d not. 
Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly: 
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly: 
Then, heigh ho! the holly! 
20 This life is most jolly. 

W. Shakespeare 



Ivii] Book First 85 



A SWEET LULLABY 

Come little babe, come silly soul, 
Thy father's shame, thy mother's grief, 
Born as I doubt to all our dole, 
And to thy self unhappy chief: 
5 Sing Lullaby and lap it warm. 

Poor soul that thinks no creature harm. 

Thou little think'st and less dost know, 
The cause of this thy mother's moan, 
Thou want'st the wit to wail her woe, 
10 And I myself am all alone: 

Why dost thou weep? why dost thou wail? 

And knowest not yet what thou dost ail. 

Come little wretch, ah silly heart, 
Mine only joy, what can I more? 
15 If there be any wrong thy smart 
• That may the destinies implore: 

'Twas I, I say, against my will, 
I wail the time, but be thou still. 

And dost thou smile, oh thy sweet face! 
20 Would God Himself He might thee see, 

No doubt thou would'st soon purchase grace, 
I know right well, for thee and me: 

But come to mother, babe, and play, 

For father false is fled away. 

25 Sweet boy, if it by fortune chance, 
Thy father home again to send. 
If death do strike me with his lance. 
Yet mayst thou me to him commend: 
If any ask thy mother's name, 

30 Tell how by love she purchased blame. 

Then will his gentle heart soon yield, 
I know him of a noble mind. 
Although a Lion in the field, 



86 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [Ivii 

A Lamb in town thou shalt him find: 
Ask blessing, babe, be not afraid. 
His sugar'd words hath me betray'd. 

Then mayst thou joy and be right glad, 
5 Although in woe I seem to moan, 

Thy father is no rascal lad, 

A noble youth of blood and bone: 

His glancing looks, if he once smile, 
Right honest women may beguile. 

10 Come, little boy, and rock asleep, 
Sing lullaby and be thou still, 
I that can do nought else but weep; 
Will sit by thee and wail my fill: 
God bless my babe, and lullaby 
15 From this thy father's quaHty! 

Anon. 



With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies! 
How silently, and with how wan a face! 
What, may it be that e'en in heavenly place 
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries! 
5 Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes 
Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case, 
I read it in thy looks; thy languish'd grace, 
To me, that feel the like, thy state descries. 
Then, e'en of fellowship, O Moon, tell me, 
10 Is constant love deem'd there but want of wit? 
Are beauties there as proud as here they be? 
Do they above love to be loved, and yet 
Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess? 
Do they call virtue, there, ungratefulness? ' 

Sir P. Sidney 



Ix] Book First 87 

LIX 

O CRUDELIS AMOR 

When thou must home to shades of underground, 
And there arrived, a new admired guest, 
The beauteous spirits do engirt thee round, 
White lope, bhthe Helen, and tiie rest, 
5 To hear the stories of thy finish'd love 

From that smooth tongue whose music hell can move; 

Then ^^-ilt thou speak of banqueting delights. 
Of masques and revels which sweet youth did make, 
Of tourneys and great challenges of Knights, 
10 And all these triumphs for thy beauty's sake: 
When thou hast told these honours done to thee, 
Then tell, O tell, how thou didst murder me! 

T. Campion 

LX 

SEPHESTIA'S SONG TO HER CHILD 

Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee; 
When thou art old there's grief enough for thee. 
Mother's wag, pretty boy, 
Father's sorrow, father's joj^; 
5 When thy father first did see 

Such a boy by him and me, 
He was glad, I was woe, 
Fortune changed made him so, 
When he left his pretty boy 
10 Last his sorrow, first his joy. 

Weep not my wanton, smile upon my knee. 
When thou art old there's grief enough for theCo 

Streaming tears that never stint, 

Like pearl drops from a flint, 
15 Fell by course from his eyes. 

That one another's place supplies; 

Thus he grieved in every part. 

Tears of blood fell from his heart, 

When he left his pretty boy, 
20 Father's sorrow, father's joy. 



88 Palgrave's Golden Treasury px 

Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee, 
When thou art old, there's grief enough for thee. 
The wanton smiled, father wept, 
Mother cried, baby leapt; 
5 More he crow'd, more we cried, 

Nature could not sorrow hide: 
He must go, he must kiss 
Child and mother, baby bless, 
For he left his pretty boy, 
10 Father's sorrow, father's joy. 

Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee, 
When thou art old, there's grief enough for thee. 

R. Greene 



LXI 

A LAMENT 

My thoughts hold mortal strife; 

I do detest my hfe. 

And wdth lamenting cries 

Peace to my soul to bring 

Oft call that prince which here doth monarchize 

— But he, grim grinning King, 

Who caitiffs scorns, and doth the blest surpri2e, 

Late having deck'd with beauty's rose his tomb, 

Disdains to crop a weed, and will not come. 

W. Drummond 



Lxn 
DIRGE OF LOVE 

Come away, come away, Death, 
And in sad cypres let me be laid; 

Fly away, fly away, breath; 
I am slain by a fair cruel maid. 



Ixiii] Book First 89 

My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, 

O prepare it! 
My part of death, no one so true 

Did share it. 

5 Not a flower, not a flower sweet 

On my black coffin let there be strown; 

Not a friend, not a friend greet 
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be throuii' 
A thousand thousand sighs to save, 
10 Lay me, O where 

Sad true lover never find my grave, 
To weep there. 

W. Shakespeare 



LXIII 

TO HIS LUTE 

My lute, be as thou wert when thou didst grow 
With thy green mother in some shady grove, 
When immelodious winds but made thee move, 
And birds their ramage did on thee bestow. 

5 Since that dear Voice which did thy sovmds approve 
Which wont in such harmonious strains to flow. 
Is reft from Earth to tune those spheres above, 
What art thou but a harbinger of woe? 
Thy pleasing notes be pleasing notes no more, 

10 But orphans' wailings to the fainting ear; 

Each stroke a sigh, each sound draws forth a tear; 
For which be silent as in woods before: 
Or if that any hand to touch thee deign. 
Like widow'd turtle, still her loss complain. 

W. Drummond 



90 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [Ixiv 



LXIV 

FIDELE 

Fear no more the heat o' the sun 

Nor the furious winter's rages; 
Thou thy worldly task hast done» 

Home art gone and ta'en thy wages, 
5 Golden lads and girls all must, 

As chimney-sweepers J come to dust. 

Fear no more the frown o' the great, 

Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;. 
Care no more to clothe and eat; 
10 To thee the reed is as the oak: 

The sceptre, learning, physic, must 
All follow this, and come to dust. 

Fear no more the lightning flash 

Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone; 
16 Fear not slander, censure rash; 

Thou hast finish' d joy and moan: 
All lovers young, all lovers must 
Consign to thee, and come to dust. 

W. Shakespear< 



LXV 

A SEA DIRGE 

Full fathom five thy father lies: 
Of his bones are coral made; 
Those are pearls that were his eyes: 
Nothing of him that doth fade, 
But doth suffer a sea-change 
Into something rich and strange. 
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: 
Hark! now I hear them, — 
Ding, dong, bell. 

W. Shakespeare 



IxviiJ Book First 91 



A LAND DIRGE 

Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren, 
Since o'er shady groves they hover 
And with leaves and flowers do cover 
The friendless bodies of unburied men, 
5 Call unto his funeral dole 

The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole 
To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm 
And (when gay tombs are robb'd) sustain no harm; 
But keep the wolf far thence, that's foe to men, 
10 For with his nails he'll dig them up again, 

J , Webster 



POST MORTEM 

If Thou survive my well-contented day 
When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover, 
And shalt by fortune once more re-survey 
These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover; 
5 Compare them with the bettering of the time, 
And though they be outstripp'd by every pen. 
Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme 
Exceeded by the height of happier men. 
O then vouchsafe me but this loving thought — 
10 'Had my friend's Muse grown with this growdng age, 
A dearer birth than this his love had brought, 
To march in ranks of better equipage: 

But since he died, and poets better prove, 
Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his love.' 

W. Shakespeare 



92 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [IxNiii 

LXVIII 

THE TRIUMPH OF DEATH 

No longer mourn for me when I am dead 
Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell 
Give warning to the world, that I am fled 
From this A-ile world, with \'ilest worms to dwell; 
5 Nay, if you read this line, remember not 
The hand that writ it; for I love you so, 
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot 
If thinking on me then should make you woe. 
O if, I say, you look upon this verse " 
10 When I perhaps compounded am with clay, 
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse. 
But let your love even ^^•ith my life decay; 

Lest the wise world should look into your moan, 
And mock you ^^ith me after I am gone. 

W. Shakespeare 



YOUNG LOVE 

Tell me where is Fancy bred, 
Or in the heart, or in the head? 
How begot, how nourished? 
Reply, reply. 

5 It is engendered in the eyes; 

With gazing fed; and Fancy dies 
In the cradle where it lies: 
Let us all ring Fancy's knell; 
I'll begin it, — Ding, dong, belL 
10 — Ding, dong, bell. 

W. Shakespeare 



Ixxi] Book First 93 

LXX 

A DILEMMA 

Lady, when I behold the roses sprouting 

Which clad in damask mantles deck t^e arbours, 
And then behold your Hps where sweet love 
harbours, 
My eyes present me with a double doubting: 
5 For viewing both alike, hardly my mind supposes 
V hether the roses be your lips, or your lips the roses, 

Anon. 



ROSALYND'S MADRIGAL 

Love in my bosom, like a bee, 

Doth suck his sweet; 
Now 'i\ith his wings he plays with me, 
Now with his feet. 
5 Within mine eyes he makes his nest, 

J.Iis bed amidst my tender breast; 
My kisses are his daily feast. 
And yet he robs me of my rest: 
Ah! wanton, will ye? 

IC And if I sleep, then percheth he 

With pretty flight, 

And makes his pillow of my knee 

The livelong night. 

Strike I my lute, he tunes the string; 

15 He music plays if so I sing; 

He lends me every lovely thing, 
Yet cruel he my heart doth sting. 
Whist, wanton, will ye? 

Else 1 with roses every day 
20 Will w^hip you hence. 



94 Pal grave's Golden Treasury jlxxi 

And bind you, when you long to play, 
For your offence; 
I'll shut my eyes to keep you in; 
I'll make you fast it for your sin; 
5 I'll count your power not worth a pin; 

— Alas! what hereby shall I win, 
If he gainsay me? 

What if I beat the wanton boy 
With many a rod? 
10 He will repay me with annoy, 
Because a god. 
Then sit thou safely on my knee, 
And let thy bower my bosom be; 
Lurk in mine eyes, I like of thee, 
15 O Cupid! so thou pity me, 

Spare not, but plav thee! 

T. Lodge 



CUPID AND CAMPASPE 

Cupid and my Campaspe play'd 
At cards for kisses; Cupid paid: 
He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows, 
His mother's doves, and team of sparrows; 
5 Loses them too; then down he throws 
The coral of his lip, the rose 
Growing on's cheek (but none knows how); 
With these, the crystal of his brow, 
And then the dimple on his chin; 
10 All these did my Campaspe win: 

And last he set her both his eyes — 
She won, and Cupid blind did rise. 

O Love! has she done this to thee? 

What shall, alas! become of me? 

J. Lylye 



Ixxiv] Book First 95 



Pack, clouds, away, and welcome day, 

With night we banish sorrow; 
Sweet air blow soft, mount larks aloft 
To give my Love good-morrow! 
5 Wings from the wind to please her mind 
Notes from the lark I'll borrow; 
Bird, prvme thy wing, nightingale sing, 
To give my Love good-morrow; 

To give my Love good-morrow; 
10 Notes from them both I'll borrow. 

Wake from thy nest, Robin-red-breast, 

Sing, birds, in every furrow; 
And from each hill, let music shrill 
Give my fair Love good-morrow! 
15 Blackbird and thrush in every bush, 
Stare, linnet, and cock-sparrow! 
You pretty elves, amongst yourselves 
Sing my fair Love good-morrow; 
To give my Love good-morrow 
20 Sing, birds, in every furrow! 

T. Heywood 



LXXIV 

PROTHALAMION 

Calm was the day, and through the trembling aii 
Sweet-breathing Zephyrus di'd softly play — 
A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay 
Hot Titan's beams, which then did glister fair; 

5 W^hen I, (whom sullen care, 

Through discontent of my long fruitless stay 
In princes' court, and expectation vain 
Of idle hopes, wliich still do fly away 
Like empty shadows, did afflict my brail., 

10 Walk'd forth to ease my pain 



96 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [Ixxiv 

Along the shore of silver-streaming Thames; 
Whose rutty bank, the which his river hems, 
Was painted all with variable flowers, 
And all the meads adorn'd with dainty gems 
5 Fit to deck maidens' bowers, 
And c^o^\^l their paramours 
Against the bridal day, which is not long: 

Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song. 

There in a meadow by the river's side 
10 A flock of nymphs I chanced to espy, 

All lovely daughters of the flood thereby. 

With goodly greenish locks all loose untied 

As each had been a bride; 

And each one had a little wicker basket 
15 Made of fine twigs, entrailed curiously. 

In which they gather'd flowers to fill their flasket, 

And with fine fingers cropt full feateously 

The tender stalks on high. 

Of every sort wliich in that meadow grew 
20 They gather'd some; the violet, pallid blue, 

The little daisy that at evening closes. 

The virgin lily and the primrose true, 

With store of vermeil roses, 

To deck their bridegrooms' posies 
25 Against the bridal day, which was not long: 

Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song. 

With that I saw two swans of goodly hue 

Come softly swimming down along the Lee; 

Two fairer birds I yet did never see; 
30 The snow wliich doth the top of Pindus strow 

Did never whiter show. 

Nor Jove himself, when he a swan would be 

For love of Leda, whiter did appear; 

Yet Leda was (they say) as white as he, 
35 Yet not so white as these, nor nothing near; 

So purely white they were 

That even the gentle stream, the which them bare, 

Seem'd foul to them, and bade his billows spare 

To wet their silken feathers, lest they might 
40 Soil their fair plumes with water not so fair, 



bcxiv] Book First 97 

And mar their beauties bright 
That shone as Heaven's light 
Against their bridal day, which was not long: 
Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song. 

5 Eftsoons the nymphs, which now had flowers their fill, 
Ran all in haste to see that silver brood 
As they came floating on the crystal flood; 
Whom when they saw, they stood amazed still 
Their wondering eyes to fill; 

1.0 Them seem'd they never saw a sight so fair 
Of fowls, so lovely, that they sure did deem 
Them heavenly bom, or to be that same pair 
Which through the sky draw Venus' silver team; 
For sure they did not seem 

15 To be begot of any earthly seed, 

But rather Angels, or of Angels' breed; 
Yet were they bred of summer's heat, they say, 
In sweetest season, when each flower and weed 
The earth did fresh array; 

10 So fresh they seem'd as day, 

Ev'n as their bridal day, which was not long: 
Sweet Thames! run softly, "till I end my song. 

Then forth they all out of their baskets drew 

Great store of flowers, the honour of the field, 
25 That to the sense did fragrant odours jield. 

All which upon those goodly birds they threw 

And all the waves did strew, 

That like old Peneus' waters they did seem 

When do^^^l along by pleasant Tempe's shore 
30 Scatter'd with flowers, through Thessaly they stream, 

That they appear, through lilies' plenteous store, 

Like a bride's chamber-floor. 

Two of those nymphs meanwhile two garlands bound 

Of freshest flowers which in that mead they found. 
35 The which presenting all in trim array. 

Their snowy foreheads therewithal they crow^n'd; 

Whilst one did sing this lay 

Prepared against that day. 

Against their bridal day, wiiich was not long: 
40 Sweet Thames! run softly till I end my song. 



98 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [Ixxiv 

*Ye gentle birds! the world's fair ornament, 
And Heaven's glory, whom tliis happy hour 
Doth lead unto your lovers' blissful bower, 
Joy may you have, and gentle hearts' content 
5 Of your love's couplement; 

And let fair Venus, that is queen of love. 
With her heart-quelling son upon you smile, 
Whose smile, they say, hath virtue to remove 
All love's dislike, and friendship's faulty guile 

10 For ever to assoil. 

Let endless peace your steadfast hearts accord, 
And blessed plenty wait upon your board; 
And let your bed wdth pleasures chaste abound, 
That fruitful issue may to you afford 

15 Wliich may your foes confound, 
And make your joys redound 
Upon your bridal day, wliich is not long: 

Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song/ 

So ended she; and all the rest around 
20 To her redoubled that her undersong, 

Which said their bridal day should not be long: 

And gentle Echo from the neighbour ground 

Their accents did resound. 

So forth those joyous birds did pass along 
25 Adown the Lee that to them murmur'd low. 

As he would speak but that he lack'd a tongue; 

Yet did by signs his glad affection show, 

Making his stream run slow. 

And all the fowl which in his flood did dwell 
30 'Gan flock about these twain, that did excel 

The rest, so far as Cynthia doth shend 

The lesser stars. So they, enranged well. 

Did on those two attend. 

And their best service lend 
35 Against their wedding day, which was not longi 
Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song. 

At length they all to merry London came. 
To merry London, my most kindly nurse. 
That to me gave this life's first native source, 
40 Though from another place I take my name, 



Ixxiv] Book First 99 

An house of ancient fame: 

There when they came whereas those bricky towers 
The which on Thames' broad aged back do ride, 
Where now the studious lawyers have tiieir bowers, 
5 There whilome wont the Templar-knights to bide, 
Till they decay' d through pride; 
Next whereunto there stands a stately place, 
Where oft I gained gifts and goodly grace 
Of that great lord, wliich therein wont to dwell, , 
10 Whose want too well now feels my friendless case. 
But ah! here fits not well 
Old woes, but joys to tell 
Against the bridal day, which is not long: 

Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song. 

15 Yet therein now doth lodge a noble peer. 

Great England's glory and the world's wide wonder, 
Whose dreadful name late through all Spain dir^ 

thunder. 
And Hercules' two pillars standing near 
Did make to quake and fear: 

20 Fair branch of honour, flower of chivalry! 
That fillest England with thy triumphs' fame 
Joy have thou of thy noble victory. 
And endtess happiness of thine own name 
That promiseth the same; 

25 That through thy prowess and victorious arms 
Thy country may be freed from foreig^i harms, 
And great Elisa's glorious name may rmg 
Through all the world, fill'd with thy wide alarms, 
Which some brave Muse may sing 

30 To ages folloA\ing: 

Upon the bridal day, which is not long: 

Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song. 

From those high towers tliis noble lord issuing 
Like Radiant Hesper, when his golden hair 
35 In th' ocean billows he hath bathed fair, 
Descended to the river's open viewing 
With a great train ensuing. 
Above the rest were goodly to be seen 
Two gentle knights of lovely face and feature, 



100 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [Ixxiv 

Beseeming well the bower of any queen, 
With gifts of wit and ornaments of nature, 
Fit for so goodly stature, 

That like the twins of Jove they seem'd in sight 
6 Which deck the baldric of the Heavens bright; 
They two, forth pacing to the river's side, 
Received those two fair brides, their love's delight: 
Which, at th' appointed tide, 
Each one did make his bride 
Id Against their bridal day, wliich is not long: 

Sweet Thames' run softly, till I end my song. 

E. Spenser 



THE HAPPY HEART 

Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers? 

O sweet content! 
Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplex'd? 
O punishment! 
6 Dost thou laugh to see how fools are vex'd 
To add to golden numbers, golden numbers? 
O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content! 
Work apace, apace, apace, apace; 
Honest labour bears a lovely face; 
10 Then hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny! 

Canst drink the waters of the crisped spring? 

O sweet content! 
Swimm'st thou in wealth, yet sink'st in thine own 
tears? 

O punishment! 
15 Then he that patiently want's burden bears 
No burden bears, but is a king, a king? 
O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content! 
Work apace, apace, apace, apace; 
Honest labour bears ?. lovely face; 
20 Then hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny* 

T. Dekker 



xxvii] Book First 101 



SIC TRANSIT 

Come, cheerful day, part of my life to me; 

For wliile thou view'st me with thy fading light 
Part of my life doth still depart ^^^th thee, 

• And I still onward haste to my last night : 
Time's fatal \\ings do ever forward fly — 
So every day we live a day we die. 

But O ye nights, ordain'd for barren rest, 
How are my days deprived of life in you 

When heavy sleep my soul hath dispossest, 
By feigned death life sweetly to renew! 

Part of my life, in that, you life deny: 

So every day we live, a day we die. 

T. Campion 



LXXVII 

This Life, which seems so fair, 
Is like a bubble blo%ATi up in the air 
By sporting children's breath, 
Who chase it everywhere 

And strive who can most motion it bequeath. 
And though it sometimes seem of its own might 
Like to an eye of gold to be fix'd there. 
And firm to hover in that empty height, 
That only is because it is so light, 
— But in that pomp it doth not long appear; 
For when 'tis most admired, in a thought. 
Because it erst was nought, it turns to nought. 

W. Drummond 



102 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [Ixxviii 



SOUL AND BODY 

Poor Soul, the centre of my sinful earth, 
[Foil'd by] those rebel powers that thee array, 
Wliy dost thou pine witliin, and suffer dearth, 
Painting thy outward walls so costly gay? 
5 Why so large cost having so short a lease, 
Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend? 
Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, 
Eat up thy charge? is this thy body's end? 
Then, Soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss, 
10 And let that pine to aggravate thy store; 
Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross; 
Within be fed, without be rich no more: — 

So shaft thou feed on death, that feeds on men, 
And death once dead, there's no more dying then. 

W. Shakespeare 



The man of life upright, 

Whose guiltless heart is free 

from all dishonest deeds, 
Or thought of vanity; 

5 The man whose silent days 

In harmless joys are spent. 
Whom hopes cannot delude 
Nor sorrow discontent: 

That man needs neither towers 
10 Nor armour for defence, 

Nor secret vaults to fly 
From thunder's violence: 



Ixxx] Book First 103 

He only can behold 

With unaffrighted eyes 
The horrors of the deep 

And terrors of the skies. 

5 Thus scorning all the cares 

That fate or fortune brings, 
He makes the heaven his book, 
His wisdom heavenly things; 

Good thoughts his only friends, 
10 His wealth a well-spent age, 

The earth liis sober inn 
And quiet pilgrimage. 

T. Campion 



LXXX 

THE LESSONS OF NATURE 

Of this fair volume which we World do name 
If we the sheets and leaves, could turn with care, 
Of Him who it corrects, and did it frame, 
We clear might read the art and wisdom rare: 
5 Find out His power which snidest powers doth tame. 
His pro\ddence extending everywhere, 
His justice vrliich proud rebels doth not spare, 
In every page, no period of the same 
But silly we, like foolish cliildren, rest 
10 Well pleased with colour 'd vellum, leaves of gold. 
Fair dangling ribbands, leaving what is best, 
On the great Writer's sense ne'er taking hold; 
Or if by chance we stay our minds on aught, 
It is some Picture on the margin wrought. 

W. Drimnmond 



104 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [Ixxxi 

LXXXI 

Doth then the world go thus, doth all thus move? 
Is this the justice which on Earth we find? 
Is this that firm decree which all doth bind? / 

Are these your influences, Powers above? 
5 Those souls which vice's moody mists most Wind, 
Blind Fortune, blindly, most their friend doth prove; 
And they who thee, poor idol Virtue! love. 
Ply like a feather toss'd by storm and wind. 
Ah! if a Providence doth sway this all 
10 Why should best minds groan under most distress? 
Or why should pride humility make thrall, 
And injuries the innocent oppress? 
Heavens! liinder, stop this fate; or grant a time 
When good may have, as well as bad, their primel 

W. Drummond 



THE WORLD'S WAY 

Tired with all these, for restful death I cry-^ 
As, to behold desert a beggar born, 
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity, 
And purest faith unhappily forsworn, 

5 And gilded honour shamefully misplaced, 
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted. 
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced. 
And strength by limping sway disabled, 
And art made tongue-tied by authority, 

10 And folly, doctor-hke, controlling skill. 
And simple truth miscall'd simplicity, 
And captive Good attending captain 111:— 

— Tired with all these, from these would I be gone, 
Save that, to die, I leave my Love alone. 

W. Shakespeare 



Ixxivl Book First 105 



A WISH 

Happy were he could finish forth his fate 
In some unhaunted desert where, obscure 
From all society from love and hate 
Of worldly folk, there should he sleep secure; 

5 Then wake again, and yield God ever praise; 
Content with hip, with haws, and brambleberry; 
In contemplation passing still his days. 
And change of holy thoughts to make him merry: 

Who, when he dies, his tomb might be the bush 
10 Where harmless robin resteth with the thrush: 
— Happy were he! 

R. Devereux, Earl of Essex 



SAINT JOHN BAPTIST 

The last and greatest Herald of Heaven's King 
Girt with rough skins, hies to the deserts wild, 
Among that savage brood the woods forth bring, 
Which he more harmless found than man, and mild, 
5 His food was locusts, and what there doth spring, 
With honey that from virgin hives distill'd; 
Parch'd body, hollow eyes, some uncouth tiling 
Made him appear, long since from earth exiled. 
There burst he forth : All ye whose hopes rely 
10 On God, with me amidst these deserts mourn, 
Repent, repent, and from old errors turn! 
— Who hsten'd to his voice, obey'd his cry? 
Only the echoes, which he made relent. 
Rung from their flinty caves, Repent! Repent! 

W. Drummond 



15oofe %icconD 



LXXXV 

ODE ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S 
NATIVITY 

This is the month, and this the happy mom 
Wherein the Son of Heaven's Eternal King 
Of wedded maid and virgin mother born, 
Our great redemption from above did bring; 
6 For so the holy sages once did sing 

That He our deadly forfeit should release. 

And with His Father work us a perpetual peace. 

That glorious Form, that Light unsufferable, 
And that far-beammg blaze of Majesty 
10 Wherewith He wont at Heaven's high council-table 
To sit the midst of Trinal Unity, 
He laid aside; and, here with us to be, 
Forsook tl^e courts of everlasting day. 
And cliQse wdth us a darksome house of mortal clay 

15 Sav, heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein 
Afford a present to the Infant God? 
Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain 
To welcome Him to this His new abode. 
Now while the heaven, by the sun's team untrod, 
20 Hath took no print of the approaching light. 

And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons 
bright? 

103 



Ixxxv] Book Secona 107 

See how from far, upon the eastern road, 
The star-led wizards haste with odours sweet: 
O run, prevent them with thy humble ode 
And lay it lowly at His blessed feet; 
6 Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet, 
And join thy voice unto the Angel quire 
From out His secret altar touch' d \\ith hallow' d fire. 



THE HYMN 

It was the wanter ynld 
While the heaven-bom Child 
All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies; 
Nature in awe to Him 
5 Had doff'd her gaudy trim. 

With her great Master so to sympathize: 

It was no season then for her 

To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour. 

Only with speeches fair 
10 She woos the gentle air 

To hide her guilty front with innocent snow; 

And on her naked shame, 

Pollute with sinful blame, 

The saintly veil of maiden white to throw; 
15 Confounded, that her Maker's eyes 

Should look so near upon her foul deformities. 

But He, her fears to cease, 
Sent do^\Ti the meek-eyed Peace; 
She, crowT;i'd with olive green, came softly sliding 
20 Do\ATi through the turning sphere. 
His ready harbinger. 

With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing; 
And waving wide her myrtle wand, 
She strikes a universal peace through sea and land. 

25 No war, or battle's sound 
Was heard the world around: 
The idle spear and shield were high uphung; 
The hooked chaiiot stood 



108 Falgrave's Golden Treasury [Ixxxv 

Unstain'd with hostile blood; 

The trumpet spake not to the armed throng; 

And kings sat still with awful eye, 

As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by. 

5 But peaceful was the night 
Wherein the Prince of Light 
His reign of peace upon the earth began: 
The winds, with wonder wliist, 
Smoothly the waters kist 
10 Whispering new joys to the mild ocean — 
Who now hath quite forgot to rave, 
While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave. 

The stars, with deep amaze. 

Stand fix'd in steadfast gaze, 
15 Bending one way their precious influence; 

And will not take their flight 

For all the morning hght, 

Or Lucifer that often warn'd them thence; 

But in their glimmering orbs did glow 
20 Until their Lord Himself bespake, and bid them go. 

And though the shady gloom 
Had given day her room. 
The sun himself withheld his wonted speed. 
And hid his head for shame, 
25 As his inferior flame 

The new-enlighten'd world no more should need; 

He saw a greater Sun appear 

Than his bright throne, or burning axletree could bear. 

The shepherds on the lawn 
30 Or ere the point of dawn 

Sate simply chatting in a rustic row; 

Full httle thought they than 

That the mighty Pan 

Was kindly come to live with them below; 
35 Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep 

Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep: — 

When such music sweet 

Their hearts and ears did greet 



Ixxxv] Book Second 109 

As never was by mortal finger strook — 
Divinely-warbled voice 
Answering the stringed noise, 
As all their souls in blissful rapture took: 
5 The air, such pleasure loth to lose, 

With thousand echoes still prolongs ea.ch heavenly 
close. 

Nature, that heard such sound 
Beneath the hollow round 
Of Cynthia's seat the airy region thrilling, 
10 Now was almost won 

To think her part was done, 

And that her reign had here Hs last fulfilling. 

She knew such harmony alone 

Could hold all Heaven and Earth in happier union. 

15 At last surrounds their sight 

A globe of circular light 

That with long beams the shamefaced night array 'd; 

The helmed Cherubim 

And sworded Serapliim 
20 Are seen in glittering ranks with wings display'd, 

Harping in loud and solemn quire 

With unexpressive notes, to Heaven's new-born Heir. 

Such music (as 'tis said) 

Before was never made 
25 But when of old the Sons of Morning sung. 

While the Creator great 

His constellations set 

And the well-balanced world on hinges hung; 

And cast the dark foundations deep, 
30 And bid the weltering waves their oozy channel keep. 

Ring out, ye crystal spheres! 
Once bless our human ears. 
If ye have po\ver to touch our senses so; 
And let your silver chime 
35 Move in melodious time; 

And let the bass of heaven's deep organ blow; 

And with your ninefold harmony 

Make up full consort to the angelic symphony. 



110 Palgrave's Golden Treasury pxxxv 

For if such holy song 
Enwrap our fancy long, 

Time will run back, and fetch the age of gold; 
And speckled Vanity 
5 Will sicken soon and die, 

And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mould; 

And Hell itself will pass away, 

And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day 

Yea, Truth and Justice then 
10 Will down return to men, 

Orb'd in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing, 

Mercy will sit between 

Throned in celestial sheen. 

With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering; 
15 And Heaven, as at some festival, 

Will open wide the gates of her high palace-hall. 

But wisest Fate says No; 
This must not yet be so; 
The Babe yet lies in smiling infancy 
20 That on the bitter cross 
Must redeem our loss; 
So both Himself and us to glorify: 
Yet first, to those ychain'd in sleep 
The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the 
deep; 

25 With such a horrid clang 

As on Mount Sinai rang 

Wliile the red fire and smouldering clouds outbrake: 

The aged Earth aghast 

With terror of that blast 
30 Shall from the surface to the centre shake, 

When, at the world's last session, 

The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread His 
throne. 

And then at last our bliss 
Full and perfect is, 
35 But now begins; for from this happy day 
The old Dragon under ground, 
In straiter limits bound, 
Not half so far casts his usurped sway; 



Ixxxv] Book Second 111 

And, wroth to see his kingdom fail, 
Swinges the scaly horror of his folded tail. 

The Oracles are dumb; 
No voice or hideous hum 
5 Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving, 
Apollo from his shrine 
Can no more divine, 

With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving: 
No nightly trance or breathed spell 
10 Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell. 

The lonely mountains o'er 

And the resounding shore 

A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament; 

From haunted spring and dale 
15 Edged with poplar pale 

The parting Genius is -u-ith sighing sent; 

With flower-inwoven tresses torn 

The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled tliickets 
mourn. 

In consecrated earth 
20 And on the holy hearth 

The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight plaint; 

In urns, and altars round 

A drear and dying sound 

Affrights the Flamens at their service quaint; 
25 And the chill marble seems to sweat, 

Wliile each pecuHar Power foregoes his wonted seat. 

Peor and Baalim 
Forsake their temples dim, 
With that twice-batter'd god of Palestine; 
30 And mooned Ashtaroth 

Heaven's queen and mother both, 
Now sits not girt with tapers' holy shine; 
The Lybic Hammon shrinks his horn : 
In vain the Tyriau maids their wounded Thammuz 
mourn. 

35 And sullen Moloch, fled, 
Hath left in shadows dread 
His burning idol all of blackest hue; 



112 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [Ixxxv 

In vain with cymbals' ring 
They call the grisly king. 
In dismal dance about the furnace blue; 
The brutish gods of Nile as fast, 
5 Isis, and Orus, and the dog Anubis, haste 

Nor is Osiris seen 
In Memphian grove, or green, 

Trampling the unshower'd grass with lowings loud: 
Nor can he be at rest 
10 Within his sacred chest; 

Nought but profoundest Hell can be his shroud; 

In vain with timbrell'd anthems dark 

The sable-stoled sorcerers bear his worshipt ark. 

He feels from Juda's land 
16 The dreaded Infant's hand; 

The rays of Bethlehem bhnd his dusky eyn; 

Nor all the gods beside 

Longer dare abide, 

Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine; 
20 Our Babe, to show His Godhead true. 

Can in His swaddling bands control the damned crew. 

So, when the sun in bed 
Curtain 'd with cloudy red 
Pillows his chin upon an orient wave, 
25 The flocking shadows pale 
Troop to the infernal jail, 
Each fetter 'd ghost slips to his several grave; 
And the yellow-skirted fays 

Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-lovea 
maze. 

30 But see! the Virgin blest 

Hath laid her Babe to rest; 

Time is, our tedious song should here have ending: 

Heaven's youngest-teemed star 

Hath fix'd her poHsh'd car, 
35 Her sleeping Lord with hand-maid lamp attending: 

And all about the courtly stable 

Bright-harness 'd Angels sit in order serviceable. 

J. MiUon. 



lxxx\'i] Book Second ll<i 



SONG FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY, 1687 

From Harmony, from Heavenly Harmony 

This universal frame began: 
When Nature underneath a heap 

Of jarring atoms lay 
5 And could not heave her head, 

The tuneful voice was heard from high. 

Arise, ye more than dead! 
Then cold and hot and moist and dry 
In order to their stations leap, 

And Music's power obey. 
From harmony, from heavenly harmony 

This universal frame began: 

From harmony to harmony 
Through all the compass of the notes it ran, 
15 The diapason closing full in Man. 

What passion cannot Music raise and quell? 
W^hen Jubal struck the chorded shell 
His listening brethren stood around, 
And, wondering, on their faces fell 
20 To worship that celestial sound. 

Less than a god they thought there could not dwell 
Within the hollow of that shell 
That cpoke so sweetly and so well, 
What passion cannot Music raise and quell? 

25 The trumpet's loud clangor 
Excites us to arms. 
With shrill notes of anger 

And mortal alarms. 
The double double double beat 
30 Of the thundering drum 

Cries 'Hark! the foes come; 
Charge, charge, 'tis too late to retreat!' 

The soft complaining flute 
In dying notes discovers 



114 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [Ixxxvi 

The woes of hopeless lovers, 
Whose dirge is whisper' d by the warbling lute. 

Sharp violins proclaim 
Their jealous pangs and desperation, 
5 Fury, frantic indignation, 

Depth of pains, and height of passion 
For the fair disdainful dame. 

But oh! what art can teach. 
What human voice can reach 
10 The sacred organ's praise? 

Notes inspiring holy love. 
Notes that wing their heavenly ways 
To mend the choirs above. 

Orphevis could lead the savage race, 
15 And trees unrooted left their place 
Sequacious of the lyre: 
But bright Cecilia raised the wonder higher: 
When to her Organ vocal breath was given 
An Angel heard, and straight appeared — • 
20 Mistaking Earth for Heaven. 

Grand Chorus 
As from the power of sacred lays 

The spheres began to move. 
And sung the great Creator's praise 
To all the blest above; 
25 So when the last and dreadful hour 
This crumbling pageant shall devour, 
The trumpet shall be heard on liigh, 
The dead shall live, the living die. 
And Music shall untune the sky. 

J. Dryden 

LXXXVII 

ON THE LATE MASSACRE LY PIEDMONT 

Avenge, O Lordl Thy slaughter'd saints, whose bones 
Lie scatter'd on the Alpine mountains cold; 
Even them who kept Thy truth so pure of old 
When all our fathers worshipt stocks and stones. 



I.xxxviii] Book Second 115 

Forget not : In Thy book record their groans 
Who were Thy sheep, and in their ancient fold 
Slain by the bloody Piedmontese, that roU'd 
Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans 
5 The vales redoubled to the hills, and they 

To Heaven. Their martyr'd blood and ashes sow 
O'er all the Italian fields, where still doth sway 
The triple Tyrant: that from these may grow 
A hundred-fold, who, having learnt Thy way, 
10 Early may fly the Babylonian woe. 

J. Milton 



LX XXVIII 

HORATIAN ODE UPON CROMWELL'S 
RETURN FROM IRELAND 

The forward youth that w^ould appear, 
Must now forsake his Muses dear, 
Nor in the shadows sing 
His numbers languisliing. 

5 'Tis time to leave the books in dust, 

And oil the unused armour's rust. 
Removing from the wall 
The corslet of the hall. 

So restless Cromwell could not cease 
10 In the inglorious arts of peace, 

But through adventurous war 
Urged his active star: 

And like the three-fork'd lightning, first 
Breaking the clouds where it was nursty 
15 Did thorough his own Side 

His fiery way divide: 

For 'tis all one to courage high, 
The emulous, or enemy; 

And with such, to enclose 
20 Is more than to oppose; 



116 PaJgrave'.ii Golden Treasury [Ixxxvir 

Then burning through the air he went 

And palaces and temples rent; 
And Caesar's head at last 
Did through his laurels blast. 

6 'Tis madness to resist or blame 

The face of angry heaven's flame; 
And if we would speak true, 
Much to the Man is due 

Who, from his private gardens, where 
10 He lived reserved and austere, 

(As if his highest plot 
To plant the bergamot,) 

Could by industrious valour chmb 
To ruin the great work of time, 
15 And cast the Kingdoms old 

Into another mould; 

Though Justice against Fate complain, 
And plead the ancient Rights in vain — 
But those do hold or break 
20 As men are strong or weak; 

Nature, that hateth emptiness. 
Allows of penetration less, 

And therefore must make room 

Where greater spirits come. 

25 What field of all the civil war 

Where his were not the deepest scar? 
And Hampton shows what part 
He had of wiser art, 

Where, twining subtle fears with hope, 
30 He wove a net of such a scope 

That Charles himself might chase 
To Carisbrook's narrow case. 

That thence the Royal actor borne 
The tragic scaffold might adorn. 
■SS While round the armed bands 

Did clap their bloody hands. 



IxxxviiiJ Book Second 117 

He nothing common did or mean 
Upon that memorable scene; 

But with his keener eye 

The axe's edge did try; 

5 Nor call'd the Gods, with \nilgar spite, 

To vindicate his helpless right; 
But bow'd his comely head 
Down, as upon a bed. 

— This was that memorable hour 
'0 Which first assured the forced power: 

So when they did design 
The Capitol's first line, 

A Bleeding Head, where they begun. 
Did fright the architects to run; 
15 And yet in that the State 

Foresaw its happy fate! 

And now the Irish are ashamed 
To see themselves in one year tamed: 
So much one man can do 
20 That does both act and know. 

They can affirm his praises best, 
And have, though overcome, confest 

How good he is, how just 

And fit for highest trust. 

25 Nor yet grown stifTer with command. 

But still in the Republic's hand — 
How fit he is to sway 
That can so well obey! 

He to the Commons' feet presents 
30 A Kingdom for his first year's rents, 

And (what he may) forbears 
His fame to make it theirs: 

And has his sword and spoils ungirfc 
To lay them at the Public's skirt. 
35 So when the falcon high 

Falls heavy from the sky. 



118 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [Ixxxviii 

She, having kill'd, no more doth search 
But on the next green bough to perch, 

Where, when he first does lure, 

The falconer has her sure, 

5 — What may not then our Isle presume 

While victory his crest does plume? 
What may not others fear 
If thus he crowns each year? 

As Caesar he, ere long, to Gaul, 
10 To Italy an Hannibal, 

And to all States not free 
Shall climacteric be. 

The Pict no shelter now shall find 
Within his parti-colour'd mind, 
15 But from this valour sad 

Shrink underneath the plaid — 

Happy, if in the tufted brake 
The Enghsh hunter him mistake, 
Nor lay his hounds in near 
20 The Caledonian deer. 

But Thou, the War's and Fortune s son, 
March indefatigably on; 

And for the last effect 

Still keep the sword erect: 

25 Besides the force it has to fright 

The spirits of the shady night. 
The same arts that did gain 
A power, must it maintain. 

A. Marvell 

LXXXIX 

LYCIDAS 

Elegy on a Friend drowned in the Irish Channel 
1637 
Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more 
Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, 
I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude. 
And with forced fingers rude 



Ixxxix] Book Second 119 

Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. 
Bitter constraint and sad occasion dear 
Compels me to disturb your season due: 
For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, 
5 Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer. 
Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew 
Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme. 
He must not float upon his watery bier 
Unwept, and welter to the parching wind, 

10 Without the meed of some melodious tear. 
Begin then. Sisters of the sacred well 
That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring; 
Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string. 
Hence with denial vain and coy excuse: 

15 So may some gentle Muse 

With lucky words favour my destined urn; 
And as he passes, turn 
And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud. 
For we were nursed upon the self-same hill, 

20 Fed the same flock by fountain, shade, and rill: 
Together both, ere the high lawns appear'd 
Under the opening eyelids of the Morn, 
We -drove a-field, and both together heard 
What time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn, 

25 Battening our flocks \\-ith the fresh dews of night. 
Oft till the star that rose at evening bright 
Toward heaven's descent had sloped his westering 

wheel 
Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute, 
Temper'd to the oaten flute, 

30 Rough Satyrs danced, and Fauns wath cloven heel 
From the glad sound would not be absent long; 
And old Damoetas loved to hear our song. 

But, oh! the hea\'y change, now thou art gone, 
Now thou art gone, and never must return! 

35 Thee, Shepherd, thee the woods and desert caves 
With wild thyme and gadding vine o'ergrown, 
And all their echoes, mourn: 
The wallows and the hazel copses green 
Shall now no more be seen 

40 Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays: — 



120 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [Ixxxix 

As killing as the canker to the rose, 
Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze, 
Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear 
When first the white-thorn blows; 
5 Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear. 

Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless deep 
Closed o'er the head of your loved Lycidas? 
For neither were ye playing on the steep 
Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie, 

10 Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, 

Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream: 

Ay me! I fondly dream — 

Had ye been there . . . For what could that have 

done? 
What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore, 

15 The Muse herself, for her enchanting son. 
Whom universal nature did lament, 
When by the rout that made the hideous roar 
His gory visage do^\Ti the stream was sent, 
Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore? 

20 Alas! what boots it with uncessant care 
To tend the homely, slighted, shepherd's trade 
And strictly meditate the thankless Muse? 
Were it not better done, as others use, 
To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, 

25 Or with the tangles of Neaera's hair? 

Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise 
(That last infirmity of noble mind) 
To scorn delights, and live laborious days; 
But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, 

30 And think to burst out into sudden blaze, 

Comes the blind Fury ^\^th the abhorred shears 
And slits the thin-spun hfe. 'But not the praise' 
Phoebus replied, and touch'd my trembling ears; 
'Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, 

35 Nor in the glistering foil 

Set off to the world, nor in broad rumour lies: 
But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes 
And perfect witness of all-judging Jove; 
As he pronounces lastly on each deed, 

40 Of so much fame in heaven expect thy meed/ 



Ixxxix] Book Second 121 

O fountain Arethuse, and thou honour'd flood 
Smooth-sliding Mincius, crowTi'd with vocal reeds, 
That strain I heard was of a higher mood. 
But now my oat proceeds, 
5 And listens to the herald of the sea 
That came in Neptune's plea; 
He ask'd the waves, and ask'd the felon winds, 
What hard mishap hath doom'd this gentle swain? 
And question'd every gust of rugged wings 

10 That blows from off each beaked promontory: 
They knew not of his story; 
And sage Hippotades their answer brings. 
That not a blast was from liis dungeon stray'd; 
The air was calm, and on the level brine 

15 Sleek Panope with all her sisters play'd. 
It was that fatal and perfidious bark 
Built in the eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark, 
That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. 

Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow, 

20 His mantle hairy, and liis bonnet sedge 

Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge 
Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe: 
'Ah! who hath reft,' quoth he, 'my dearest pledge!' 
Last came, and last did go 

25 The Pilot of the Galilean lake; 

Tw^o massy keys he bore of metals twain 

(The golden opes, the iron shuts amain); 

He shook his mitred locks, and stem bespake: 

'How wejl could I have spared for thee, young swain, 

30 Enow of such, as for their bellies' sake 
Creep and intrude and cUmb into the fold! 
Of other care they little reckoning make 
Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast. 
And shove away the worthy bidden guest. 

35 Blind mouths! that scarce themselves know how to 
hold 
A sheep-hook, or have learn'd aught else the least 
That to the faithful herdman's art belongs! 
What recks it them? What need they? They are 

sped; 
And when they list, their lean and flashy songs 



122 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [Ixxxix 

Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw; 
The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, 
But swoln with \Aand and the rank mist they draw 
Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread: 
5 Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw 
Daily devours apace, and nothing said: 
— But that two-handed engine at the door 
Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.' 

Return, Alpheus; the dread voice is past 

10 That shnmk thy streams; return, Sicilian Muse, 
And call the vales, and bid them hither cast 
Their bells and flowerets of a thousand hues. 
Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use 
Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks 

1-j On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks; 
Throw hither all your quaint enamell'd eyes 
That on the green turf suck the honey' d showers 
And purple all the ground with vernal flowers. 
Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, 

20 The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine, 

The white pink, and the pansy freak'd with jet, 
The glowing violet, 

The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine. 
With cowshps wan that hang the pensive head, 

25 And every flower that sad embroidery wears: 
Bid amarantus all Ms beauty shed, 
And daffadillies fill their cups with tears 
To strew the laureat hearse where Lycid lies. 
For so to interpose a little ease, 

30 Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise: — 
Ay me! whilst thee the shores and sounding seas 
Wash far away, — where'er thy bones are hurl'd, 
Wliether beyond the stormy Hebrides 
Where thou perhaps, under the whelming tide, 

35 Visitest the bottom of the monstrous world; 
Or whether thou, to our moist vows denied, 
Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old. 
Where the great Vision of the guarded mount 
Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold, 

40 — Look homeward, Angel,' now, and melt with ruth: 
— And, O ye dolphins^ waft the hapless youth! 



xc] Book Second 123 

Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, 
For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead. 
Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor: 
So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, 
5 And yet anon repairs his drooping head 

And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore 

Flames in the forehead of the morning sky: 

So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high 

Through the dear might of Him that walk'd the waves; 

10 Where, other groves and other streams along. 
With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, 
And hears the unexpressive nuptial song 
In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. 
There entertain him all the Saints above 

15 In solemn troops, and sweet societies, 

That sing, and singing, in their glorj'' move, 
And AAipe the tears for ever from his eyes. 
Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more; 
Henceforth thou art the Genius of the shore 

20 In thy large recompense, and shalt be good 
To all that wander in that perilous flood. 

Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and riils 
While the still mom went out with sandals gray; 
He touch'd the tender stops of various quills, 
25 With eager thought warbling his Doric lay: 

And now the sun had stretch'd out all the hills, 
And now was dropt into the western bay: 
At last he rose, and t"v\itch'd his mantle blue: 
To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new. 

J. Milton 

xc 

ON THE TOMBS IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY 

Mortality, behold and fear 
What a change of flesh is here! 
Think how many royal bones 
Sleep within these heaps of stones; 
5 Here they lie, had realms and lands. 

Who now want strength to stir their hands, 



124 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [xc 

Where from their pulpits seal'd with dust 
They preach, 'In greatness is no trust.' 
Here's an acre sown indeed 
With the richest royallest seed 
b That the earth did e'er suck in 
Since the first man died for sin: 
Here the bones of birth have cried 
'Though gods they w^ere, as men they died!' 
Here are sands, ignoble things, 
10 Dropt from the ruin'd sides of kings: 
Here's a world of pomp and state 
Buried in dust, once dead by fate, 

F. Beaumont 



THE LAST CONQUEROR 

Victorious men of earth, no more 

Proclaim how wide your empires are; 

Though you bind-in every shore 
And your triumphs reach as far 
5 As night or day, 

Yet you, proud monarchs, must obey 

And mingle with forgotten ashes, when 

Death calls ye to the crowd of common men. 

Devouring Famine, Plague, and War, 
10 Each able to undo mankind, 
Death's servile emissaries are; 
Nor to these alone confined, 

He hath at will 
More quaint and subtle ways to kill; 
15 A smile or kiss, as he will use the art. 

Shall have the cunning skill to break a heart. 

J. Shirley 

XCII 

DEATH THE LEVELLER 

The glories of our blood and state 

Are shadows, not substantial things; 

There is no armour against fate; 

Death lays his icy hand on kings: 



xciii] Book Second 125 

Sceptre and Crown 

Must tumble down, 
And m the dust be equal made 
With the poor crooked scythe and spade. 

5 Some men with swords may reap the field, 
And plant fresh laurels where they kill: 
But their strong nerves at last must yield; 
They tame but one another still: 
Early or late 
10 They stoop to fate, 

And must give up their murmuring breath 
When they, pale captives, creep to death. 

The garlands wither on your brow; 

Then boast no more your mighty deeds; 
15 Upon Death's puiple altar now 

See where the victor- victim bleeds: 
Your heads must come 
To the cold tomb; 
Only the actions of the just 
20 Smell sweet and blossom in their dust. 

J. Shirley 



WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS INTENDED TO 
THE CITY 

Captain, or Colonel, or Knight in Arms, 
Whose chance on these defenceless doors may seize, 
If deed of honour did thee ever please. 
Guard them, and him within protect from harms. 
5 He can requite thee; for he knows the charms 
That call fame on such gentle acts as these, 
And he can spread thy name o'er lands and seas, 
Whatever clime the sun's bright circle warms. 
Lift not thy spear against the Muses' bower: 
10 The great Emathian conqueror bid spare 

The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower 



126 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [xciii 

Went to the ground: and the repeated air 

Of sad Electra's poet had the power 

To save the Athenian walls from ruin bare, 

J. Milton 



xciv 

ON HIS BLINDNESS 

When I consider how my light is spent 
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, 
And that one talent which is death to hide 
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent 
5 To serve therewith my Maker, and present 
My true account, lest He returning chide, — 
Doth God exact day-labour, hght denied? 
I fondly ask: — But Patience, to prevent 
That murmur, soon rephes; God doth not need 
10 Either man's work, or His own gifts: who best 

Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best: His state 
Is kingly; thousands at His bidding speed 
And post o'er land and ocean without rest: — 
They also serve who only stand and wait. 

J. Milton 



xcv 

CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE 

How happy is he born and taught 
That serveth not another's will; 
Whose armour is his honest thought 
And simple truth his utmost skill! 

Whose passions not his masters are, 
Whose soul is still prepared for death, 
Untied unto the world by care 
Of public fame, or private breath; 



xcvi] Book Second 127 

Who en\'ies none that chance doth raise 
Nor vice; Who never understood 
How deepest wounds are given by praise; 
Nor rules of state, but rules of good: 

5 Who hath his life from rumours freed, 
Whose conscience is liis strong retreat; 
Whose state can neither flatterers feed. 
Nor ruin make oppressors great; 

Who God doth late and early pray 
10 More of His grace than gifts to lend; 
And entertains the harmless day 
With a religious book or friend; 

■ — Tliis man is freed from ser\-ile bands 
Of hope to rise, or fear to fall; 
15 Lord of himself, though not of lands; 
And having notliing, yet hath all. 

Sir H. Wotton 



THE NOBLE NATURE 

It is not gro-vN-ing like a tree 
In bulk, doth make Man better be; 
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, 
To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere: 
5 A lily of a day 

Is fairer far in May, 
Although it fall and die that night — 
It was the plant and flower of Light. 
In small proportions we just beauties see; 
10 And in short measures life may perfect be. 

B. Jonson 



128 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [xcvii 



XCVII 

THE GIFTS OF GOD 

When God at first made Man, 
Ha^'ing a glass of blessings standing by; 
Let us (said He) pour on him all we can: 
Let the world's riches, which dispersed lie, 
5 Contract into a span. 

So strength first made a way; 
Then beauty flow'd, then wisdom, honour, pleasure 
When almost all was out, God made a stay. 
Perceiving that alone, of all His treasure, 
10 Rest in the bottom lay. 

For if I should (said He) 
Bestow this jewel also on My creature. 
He would adore My gifts instead of Me, 
And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature, 
15 So both should losers be. 

Yet let him keep the rest, 
But keep them with repining restlessness: 
Let him be rich and weary, that at least, 
If goodness lead him not, yet weariness 
20 May toss him to My breast. 

G. Herhen 

XCVIII 

THE RETREAT 

Happy those early days, when I 
Shined in my Angel-infancy! 
Before I understood this place 
Appointed for my second race, 
S Or taught my soul to fancy aught 

But a white, celestial thought; 
When yet I had not walk'd above 
A mile or two from my first Love. 



xcixj Book Second 129 

And looking back, at that short space 
Could see a gHmpse of His bright face; 
When on some gilded cloud or flower 
My gazing soul would dwell an hour, 
5 And in those weaker glories spy 

Some shadows of eternity; 
Before I taught my tongue to wound 
My conscience with a sinful sound, 
Or had the black art to dispense 
10 A several sin to every sense, 

But felt through all this fleshly dress 
Bright shoots of everlastingness. 

O how I long to travel back, 

And tread again that ancient track! 
15 That I might once more reach that plain 

Where first I left my glorious train; 

From whence th' enlighten'd spirit sees 

That shady City of palm trees! 

But ah! my soul with too much stay 
20 Is drunk, and staggers in the way: — ■ 

Some men a forward motion love, 

But I by backward steps would move; 

And when this dust falls to the urn, 

In that state I came, return. 

H. Vaughan 



xcix 

TO MR. LAWRENCE 

Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son, 
Now that the fields are dank and w^ays are mirCj 
AVhere shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire 
Help waste a sullen day, what may be won 
5 From the hard season gaining? Time \\i\\ run 
On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire 
The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire 
The lily and rose, that neither sow'd nor spun. 



130 Palgraves Golden Treasury [xcix 

What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice, 
Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may rise 
To hear the lute well touch'd, or artful voice 
Warble immortal notes and Tuscan air? 
5 He who of those delights can judge, and spare 
To interpose them oft, is not unwise. 

/. Milton 



TO CYRIACK SKINNER 

Cyriack, whose grandsire, on the royal bench 
Of British Themis, with no mean applause 
Pronounced, and in his volumes taught, our laws, 
Which others at their bar so often wrench; 
6 To-day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench 
In mirth, that after no repenting draws; 
Let Euchd rest, and Archimedes pause. 
And what the Swede intend, and what the French. 
To measure life learn thou betimes, and know 
10 Toward solid good what leads the nearest way; 
For other things mild Heaven a time ordains, 
And disapproves that care, though wise in show, 
That with superfluous burden loads the day. 
And, when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains. 

J. Milton 



CI 

A HYMN IN PRAISE OF NEPTUNE 

Gi Neptune's empire let us sing. 
At whose command the waves obey; 
To whom the rivers tribute pay, 
Down the high mountains sliding; 
To whom the scaly nation yields 
Homage for the crystal fields 
Wherein they dwell; 



cii] Book Second 131 

And every sea-god pays a gem 
Yearly out of his watery cell, 
To deck great Neptune's diadem. 

The Tritons dancing in a ring, 
o Before his palace gates do make 
The water with their echoes quake, 
Like the great thunder sounding: 
The sea-nymphs chaunt their accents shrill, 
And the Syrens taught to kill 
10 With their sweet voice, 

Make every echoing rock reply. 
Unto their gentle murmuring noise, 
The praise of Neptune's empery. 

T. Campion 



HYMN TO DIANA 

Queen and Huntress, chaste and fair. 

Now the sun is laid to sleep. 
Seated in thy silver chair 

State in wonted manner keep: 
5 Hesperus entreats thy light; 

Goddess excellently bright. 

Earth, let not thy envious shade 

Dare itself to interpose; 
Cynthia's shining orb was made 
10 Heaven to clear when day did close: 

Bless us then with wished sight, 
Goddess excellently bright. 

Lay thy bow of pearl apart 

And thy crystal-shining quiver; 
15 Give unto the flying hart 

Space to breathe, how short soever: 
Thou that mak'st a day of nighty 
Goddess excellently bright! 

B. Jonson 



132 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ciii 



WISHES FOR THE SUPPOSED MISTRESS 

Whoe'er she be, 

That not impossible She 

That shall command my heart and me; 

Where'er she lie, 
5 Lock'd up from mortal eye 
In shady leaves of destiny: 

Till that ripe birth 

Of studied Fate stand forth, 

And teach her fair steps tread our earth; 

10 Till that divine 

Idea take a shrine 

Of crystal flesh, through which to shine: 

— Meet you her, my Wishes, 
Bespeak her to my blisses, 
15 And be ye call'd, my absent kisses. 

I wish her beauty 
That owes not all its duty 
To gaudy tire, or ghst'ring shoe-tie? 

Something more than 
20 Taffata or tissue can, 

Or rampant feather, or rich fan. 

A face that's best 

By its own. beauty drest, 

And can alone commend the rest: 

25 A face made up 

Out of no other shop 

Than what Nature's white hand sets ope. 

Sidneian showers 
Of sweet discourse, whose powers 
30 Can crown old Winter's head with flowers. 



ciii] Book Second 133 

Whate'er delight 

Can make day's forehead bright 

Or give down to the wings of night. 

Soft silken hours, 
5 Open suns, shady bowers; 

'Bove all, notliing within that lowers. 

Days, that need borrow 

No part of their good morrow 

From a fore-spent night of sorrow: 

10 Days, that in spite 

Of darkness, by the light 

Of a clear mind are day all night. 

Life, that dares send 
A challenge to his end, 
15 And when it comes, say, 'Welcome, friend.' 

I wish her store 

Of worth may leave her poor 

Of wishes; and I wish — no more. 

Now, if Time knows 
20 That Her, whose radiant brows 

Weave them a garland of my vows: 

Her that dares be 

What these lines wish to see": 

I seek no further, it is She. 

25 'Tis She, and here 

Lo! I unclothe and clear 
My wishes' cloudy character. 

Such worth as this is 
Shall fix my flying wishes, 
30 And determine them to kisses. 

Let her full glory. 

My fancies, fly before ye; 

Be ye my fictions: — but her story. 

R. Crashaw 



134 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [civ 



THE GREAT ADVENTURER 

Over the mountains 
And over the waves, 
Under the fountains 
And under the graves; 
5 Under floods that are deepest, 

Which Neptune obey; 
Over rocks that are steepest 
Love will find out the way. 

Where there is no place 
10 For the glow-worm to lie; 

Where there is no space 

For receipt of a fly; 

Where the midge dares not venture 

Lest herself fast she lay; 
15 If love come, he will enter 

And soon find out liis way. 

You may esteem him 
A child for his might; 
Or you may deem him 
20 A coward from his flight; 

But if she whom love doth honour 
Be conceal 'd from the day. 
Set a thousand guards upon her, 
Love will find out the way. 

25 Some think to lose him 

By having him confined; 

And some do suppose him, 

Poor thing, to be blind; 

But if ne'er so close ye wall him, 
30 Do the best that you may, 

Blind love, if so ye call him. 

Will find out his way. 



cv] Book Second 135 

You may train the eagle 
To stoop to your fist; 
Or you may inveigle 
The phoenix of the east; 
5 The lioness, ye may move her 

To give o'er her prey; 
But you'll ne'er stop a lover: 
He will find out his way. 

Anon. 



cv 

THE PICTURE OF LITTLE T. C. IN A 
PROSPECT OF FLOWERS 

See with what simplicity 
Tliis nymph begins her golden days! 
In the green grass she loves to lie, 
And there with her fair aspect tames 
5 The wilder flowers, and gives them names; 

But only with the roses plays. 

And them does tell 
What colours best become them, and what smell. 

Who can foretell for what high cause 
LO This darling of the Gods was born? 

Yet this is she whose chaster laws 
The wanton Love shall one day fear. 
And, under her command severe, 
See his bow broke, and ensigns torn, 
15 Happy who can 

Appease this virtuous enemy of man! 

O then let me in time compound 
And parley with those conquering eyes. 
Ere they have tried their force to wound; 
20 Ere with their glancing wheels they drive 

In triumph over hearts that strive. 
And them that yield but more despise: 
Let me be laid. 
Where I may see the glories from some shade. 



136 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cv 

Mean time, whilst every verdant thing 
Itself does at thy beauty charm, 
Reform the errors of the Spring; 
Make that the tulips may have share 
5 Of sweetness, seeing they are fair. 
And roses of their thorns disarm; 

But most procure 
That violets may a longer age endure. 

But O young beauty of the woods, 
10 Whom Nature courts with fruits and flowers, 
Gather the flowers, but spare the buds; 
Lest Flora, angry at thy crime 
To kill her infants in their prime, 
Should quickly make th' example yours; 
15 And ere Ave see — 

Nip in the blossom — all our hopes and thee, 

.4. Marvell 



CHILD AND MAIDEN 

Ah, Chloris! could I now but sit 

As unconcern'd as when 
Your infant beauty could beget 

No happiness or pain! 
6 When I the dawn used to admire, 

And praised the coming day, 
I little thought the rising fire 

Would take my rest away. 

Your charms in harmless childhood lay 
10 Like metals in a mine; 

Age from no face takes more away 

Than youth conceal'd in thine. 
But as your charms insensibly 
To their perfection prest, 
15 So love as unperceived did fly, 

And center' d in my breast. 



cviii] Book Second 

My passion with your beauty grew, 

While Cupid at my heart, 
Still as his mother favour'd you, 
Threw a new flaming dart: 
5 Each gloried in their wanton part; 

To make a lover, he 
Employ'd the utmost of his art— 
To make a beauty, she. 

Sir C. Sedley 

CVII 

CONSTANCY 

I cannot change as others do, 

Though you unjustly scorn, 
Since that poor swain that sighs for you, 

For you alone was born; 
5 No, Phyllis, no, your heart to move 

A surer way I'll try, — 
And to revenge my slighted love. 

Will still love on, and die. 

Wlien, kiird with grief, Amintas lies, 

And you to mind shall call 
The sighs that now unpitied rise. 

The tears that vainly fall, 
That welcome hour tliat ends his smart 
Will then begin your pain, 
15 For such a faithful tender heart 

Can never break in vain. 

J. Wilmot, Earl of Rochester 



CVIII 

COUNSEL TO GIRLS 

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may, 

Old Time is still a-flying: 
And this same flower that smiles to-day, 

To-morrow will be dying. 



137 



10 



138 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cviii 

The glorious Lamp of Heaven, the Sun, 

The higher he's a-getting 
The sooner will his race be run, 

And nearer he's to setting. 

5 That age is best which is the first, 

When youth and blood are warmer; 
But being spent, the worse, and W'Orst 
Times, still succeed the former. 

Then be not coy, but use your time; 
10 And while ye may, go marry: 

For having lost but once your prime. 
You may for ever tarry. 

R. Her rick 

cix 
TO LUC AST A, ON GOING TO THE WARS 

Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind 

That from the nunnery 
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, 

To war and arms I fly, 

5 True, a new mistress now I chase. 

The first foe in the field; 
And with a stronger faith embrace 
A sword, a horse, a shield. 

Yet this inconstancy is such 
10 As you too shall adore; 

I could not love thee. Dear, so much; 
Loved I not Honour more. 

Colonel Lovelace 

ex 

ELIZABETH OF BOHEMIA 

You meaner beauties of the night. 

That poorly satisfy our eyes 
More by yrur number than your light, 



cxi] Book Second 139 

You common people of the skies, 
What are you, when the Moon shall rise? 

You curious chanters of the wood 

That warble forth dame Nature's lays, 
5 Thinking your passions understood 

By your weak accents; what's your praise 

When Philomel her voice doth raise? 

You violets that first appear. 

By your pure purple mantles known 
10 Like the proud virgins of the year, 

As if the spring were all your own, — 
What are you, \\4ien the Rose is blown? 

So when my Mistress shall be seen 
In form and beauty of her mind, 
15 By virtue first, then choice, a Queen, 

Tell me, if she were not design'd 
Th' ecHpse and glory cf her kind? 

Sir H. Wotton 



TO THE LADY MARGARET LEY 

Daughter to that good Earl, once President 
Of England's Council and her Treasury, 
Who lived in both, unstain'd with gold or fee, 
And left them both, more in himself content, 

5 Till the sad breaking of that Parliament 
Broke him, as that dishonest victory 
At Chaeroneia, fatal to liberty, 
Kill'd with report that old man eloquent; — 
Though later born than to have known the days 

10 Wherein your father flourish'd, yet by you. 
Madam, metliinks I see him living yet; 
So well your words liis noble virtues praise, 
That all both judge you to relate them true. 
And to possess them, honour' d Margaret. 

J. Milton 



140 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxii 



THE TRUE BEAUTY 

He that loves a rosy cheek 
Or a coral lip admires, 

Or from star-like eyes doth seek 
Fuel to maintain his fires; 
5 As old Time makes these decay, 

So his flames must waste away. 

But a smooth and steadfast mind. 

Gentle thoughts, and calm desires. 
Hearts with equal love combined, 
10 Kindle never-dying fires:— 

Where these are not, I despise 
Lovely cheeks or lips or eyes. 

T. Carew 



TO DIANEME 

Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes 
Which starlike sparkle in their skies; 
Nor be you proud, that you can see 
All hearts your captives; yours yet free: 
5 Be you not proud of that rich hair 

Which wantons with the lovesick air; 
Whenas that ruby wliich you wear. 
Sunk from the tip of your soft ear, 
Will last to be a precious stone 
10 When all your world of beauty's gone. 

R. Herrick 



Love in thy youth, fair Maid, be wise; 

Old Time will make thee colder. 
And though each morning new arise 

Yet we each day grow older. 



cxvl Book Second 141 

Thou as Heaven art fair and young, 

Thine eyes like twin stars sliining; 
But ere another day be sprung 

All these will be declining. 
Then winter comes with all his fears, 

And all thy sweets shall borrow; 
Too late then wilt thou shower thy tears, — 

And I too late shall sorrow! 

Anon. 



cxv 

Go, lovely Rose! 
Tell her, that wastes her time and me, 

That now she knows, 

When I resemble her to thee, 

5 How sweet and fair she seems to be. 

Tell her that's young 
And shuns to have her graces spied. 

That hadst thou sprung 
In deserts, where no men abide, 
10 Thou must have uncommended died. 

Small is the worth 
Of beauty from the light retired: 

Bid her come forth. 
Suffer herself to be desired, 
!•> And not blush so to be admired. 

Then die! that she 
The common fate of all tilings rare 

May read in thee: 
How small a part of time they share 
?0 That are so wondrous sweet and fair! 

E. Waller 



142 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxvi 



CXVI 

TO CELIA 

Drink to me only with thine eyes, 

And I will pledge with mine; 
Or leave a kiss but in the cup 

And I'll not look for wine. 
'5 The thirst that from the soul doth rise 

Doth ask a drink divine; 
But might I of Jove's nectar sup, 

I would not change for tliine. 

I sent thee late a rosy wreath, 

10 Not so much honouring thee 

As giving it a hope that there 

It could not wither'd be; 
But thou thereon didst only breathe 
And sent'st it back to me; 
15 Since when it grows, and smells, I swear. 

Not of itself but thee! 

B. Jonson 



CXVII 

CHERRY-RIPE 

There is a garden in her face 

Where roses and white lilies blow; 

A heavenly paradise is that place. 
Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow; 
5 There cherries grow that none may buy, 

Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry. 

Those cherries fairly do enclose 
Of orient pearl a double row. 
Which when her lovely laughter shows, 
10 They look hke rose-buds fill'd with snow: 

Yet them no peer nor prince may buy, 
Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry. 



cxviii] Book Second 143 

Her eyes like angels watch them still; 

Her brows like bended bows do stand, 
Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill 
All that approach with eye or hand 
6 These sacred cherries to come nigh, 
Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cryl 

Anon. 



CORINNA'S MAYING 

Get up, get up for shame! The blooming mom 
Upon her wings presents the god unshorn. 

See how Aurora throws her fair 

Fresh-quilted colours through the air: 
5 Get up, sweet Slug-a-bed, and see 

The dew bespanghng herb and tree. 
Each flower has wept, and bow'd toward the east, 
Above an hour since; yet you not drest. 

Nay! not so much as out of bed? 
10 When all the birds have matins said. 

And sung their thankful hymns: 'tis sin, 

Nay, profanation, to keep in, — 
Whenas a thousand virgins on this day, 
Spring, sooner than the lark, to fetch-in May. 

15 Rise; and put on your foliage, and be seen 

To come forth, like the Spring-time, fresh and green. 
And sweet as Flora. Take no care 
For jewels for your gown, or hair: 
Fear not; the leaves will strew 
20 Gems in abundance upon you: 

Besides, the cliildhood of the day has kept. 
Against you come, some orient pearls unwept: 
Come, and receive them while the light 
Hangs on the dew-locks of the night: 
25 And Titan on the eastern hill 

Retires himself, or else stands still 
Till you come forth. Wash, dress, be brief in praying; 
Few beads are best, when once we go a Majang. 



144 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxviii 

Come, my Corinna, come; and coming, mark 
How each field turns a street; each street a park 

Made green, and trimm'd with trees: see how 

Devotion gives each house a bough 
5 Or branch: Each porch, each door, ere this, 

An ark, a tabernacle is, 
Made up of white-thorn neatly interwove; 
As if here were those cooler shades of love. 

Can such delights be in the street, 
10 And open fields, and we not see't? 

Come, we'll abroad: and let's obey 

The proclamation made for May: 
And sin no more, as we have done, by staying; 
But, my Corinna, come, let's go a Maying. 

16 There's not a budding boy, or girl, this day, 
But is got up, and gone to bring in May. 
A deal of youth, ere this, is come 
Back, and wdth white-thorn laden home. 
Some have despatch'd their cakes and cream, 
20 Before that we have left to dream: 

And some have wept, and woo'd, and plighted troth. 
And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth: 
Many a green-gown has been given; 
Many a kiss, both odd and even: 
25 Many a glance too has been sent 

From out the eye, Love's firmament: 
Many a jest told of the keys betraying 
This night, and locks pick'd: — Yet we're not a May- 



— Come, let us go, while we are in our prime; 

30 And take the harmless folly of the time! 
We shall grow old apace, and die 
Before we know our liberty. 
Our life is short; and our days run 
As fast away as does the sun: — 

35 And as a vapour, or a drop of rain 
Once lost, can ne'er be found again: 
So when or you or I are made 
A fable, song, or fleeting shade; 



cxx] Book Second 145 

All love, all liking, all delight 
Lies drowTi'd with us in endless night. 
Then* while time serves, and we are but decaying. 
Come, my Corimia! come, let's go a Majing. 

R. Herrick 



cxix 

THE POETRY OF DRESS 

1 

A sweet disorder in the dress 
Kindles in clothes a wantonness: — 
A lawn about the shoulders thrown 
Into a fine distraction, — 

5 An erring lace, wliich here and there 

Enthrals the crimson stomacher, — 
A cuff neglectful, and thereby 
Ribbands to flow confusedly, — 
A winning wave, deserving note, • 

!0 In the tempestuous petticoat, — 

A careless shoe-string, in whose tie 
I see a wild civility, — 
Do more bewitch me, t^an when art 
Is too precise in every part. 

R. Herrick 



cxx 

2 

Whenas in silks my Julia goes 

Then, then (methinks) how sweetly flows 

That liquefaction of her clothes. 

Next, when I cast mine eyes and see 
That brave vibration each way free; 
O how that glittering taketh me! 

R. Herrick 



146 Palgrave's Golden Tr.msury [cxxi 



My Love in her attire doth shew her wii, 

It doth so well become her: 
For every season she hath dressings fit, 
For, Winter, Spring, and Summer. 
8 No beauty she doth miss 

When all her robes are on: 
But Beauty's self she is 
When all her robes are gone. 

Anon, 

CXXII 

ON A GIRDLE 

That which her slender waist confined 
Shall now my joyful temples bind: 
No monarch but would give his crown 
His arms might do what this has done. 

5 It was my Heaven's extremest sphere, 

The pale wliich held that lovely deer: 
My joy, my grief, my hope, my love 
Did all within this circle move. 

A narrow compass! and yet there 
10 Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair: 

Give me but what tliis ribband bound, 
Take all the rest the Sun goes round. 

E. Waller 

CXXIII 

A MYSTICAL ECSTASY 

E'en liice two little bank-dividing brooks. 

That wash the pebbles with their wanton streams, 

And having ranged and search' d a thousand nooks^ 
Meet both at length in silver-breasted Thames, 
5 Where in a greater current they conjoin: 

So I my Best-Beloved's am; so He is mine. 



cxxiv] Book Second 147 

E'en so we met; and after long pursuit, 

E'en so we joined; we both became entire; 

No need for either to renew a suit. 

For I was flax and he was flames of fire: 
5 Our firm-united souls did more than twine; 

So I my Best-Beloved's am; so He is mine. 

If all those glittering Monarchs that command 

The servile quarters of this earthly ball, 
Should tender, in exchange, their shares of land. 
10 I would not change my fortunes for them all: 

Their wealth is but a counter to my coin: 
The world's but theirs; but my Beloved's mine. 

F. Quarles 



TO AN THE A WHO MAY COMMAND HIM 
ANY THING 

Bid me to live, and I will live 

Thy Protestant to be: 
Or bid me love, and I will give 

A loving heart to thee. 

5 A heart as soft, a heart as kind, 

A heart as sound and free 
As in the whole world thou canst find, 
That heart I'll give to thee. 

Bid that heart stay, and it will stay, 
10 To honour thy decree: 

Or bid it languish quite away, 
And't siiall do so for thee. 

Bid me to weep, and I will vreep 
AVhile I have eyes to see: 
15 And having none, yet I will keep 

A heart to weep for thee. 

Bid me despair, and I'll despair, 

Under that cypress tree: 
Or bid me die, and I will dare 
20 E'en Death, to die for thee. 



148 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxxiv 

Thou art my life, my love, my heart, 

The very eyes of me, 
And hast commiand of every part, 

To live and die for thee. 

R. Herrick 



Love not me for comely grace, 
For my pleasing eye or face, 
Nor for any outward part. 
No, nor for my constant heart, — 
6 For those may fail, or turn to ill, 

So thou and I shall sever: 
Keep therefore a true woman's eye, 
And love me still, but know not why- 
So hast thou the same reason still 
10 To doat upon me ever! 

Anon. 



Not, Celia, that I juster am 

Or better than the rest; 
For I would change each hour, like them, 

Were not my heart at rest. 

5 But I am tied to very thee 

By every thought I have; 
Thy face I only care to see. 
Thy heart I only crave. 

All that in woman is adored 
10 In thy dear self I find — 

For the whole sex can but afford 
The handsome and the kind. 

Why then should I seek further store, 
And still make love anew? 
15 When change itself can give no more, 

'Tis easy to be true. 

Sir C. Sedley 



cxxviij Book Second 149 

CXXVII 

TO ALTHEA FROM PRISON 

When Love with unconfined wings 

Hovers witliin my gates, 
And my divine Althea brings 

To whisper at the grates; 
5 When I he tangled in her liair 

And fetter' d to her eye, 
The Gods that wanton in the air 

Know no such hberty. 

When flowing cups run swiftly round 
10 With no allaying Thames, 

Our careless heads with roses bound, 

Our hearts with loyal flames; 
When thirsty grief in wine we steep, 
When healths and draughts go free — ■ 
15 Fishes that tipple in the deep 

Know no such liberty. 

When, (Hke committed linnets), I 

With shriller throat shall sing 
The sweetness, mercy, majesty^ 
20 And glories of my King; 

When I shall voice aloud how good 

He is, how great should be. 
Enlarged winds, that curl the flood, 

Know no such liberty. 

25 Stone walls do not a prison make, 

Nor iron bars a cage; 
Minds innocent and quiet take 

That for an hermitage; 
If I have freedom in my love 
30 And in my soul am free. 

Angels alone, that soar above. 
Enjoy such liberty. 

Colonel Lovelace 



150 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxxviii 



TO LUC AST A, GOING BEYOND THE SEAS 

If to be absent were to be 
Away from thee; 
Or that when I am gone 
You or I were alone; 
5 Then, my Lu casta, might I crave 

Pity from bkistering wind, or swallowing wave. 

But I'll not sigh one blast or gale 
To swell my sail. 
Or pay a tear to 'suage 
10 The foaming blue-god's rage; 

For whether he will let me pass 
Or no, I'm still as happy as I was. 

Though seas and land betwixt us both, 
Our faith and troth, 
15 Like separated souls, 

All time and space controls: 
Above the highest sphere we meet 
Unseen, unknowTi, and greet as Angels greet. 

So then we do anticipate 
20 Our after-fate. 

And are alive i' the skies. 
If thus our lips and eyes 
Can speak like spirits unconfined 
In Heaven, their earthy bodies left behind. 

Colonel Lovelace 



cxxix 
ENCOURAGEMENTS TO A LOVER 

Why so pale and wan, fond lover? 

Prythee, why so pale? 
Will, if looking well can't move her, 

Looking ill prevail? 

Prythee, why so pale? 



cxxx » Book Second 151 

Why so dull and mute, young sinner? 

Prythee, why so mute? 
Will, when spealdng well can't win her, 
Saying nothing do't? 
5 Prythee, why so mute? 

Quit, quit, for shame! this will not move. 

This cannot take her; 
If of herself she will not love, 
Nothing can make her: 
10 The D— 1 take her! 

Sir J. Suckling 



A SUPPLICATION 

Awake, awake, my Lyre! 
And tell thy silent master's humble tale 
In sounds that may prevail; 
Sounds that gentle thoughts inspire: 
5 Though so exalted she 

And I so lowly be 
Tell her, such different notes make all thy harmony. 

Hark, how the strings awake! 
And, though the moving hand, approach not near, 
IC Themselves with awful fear 

A kind of numerous trembling make. 
Now all thy forces try; 
Now all thy charms apply; 
Revenge upon her ear the conquests of her eye. 

15 Weak Lyre! thy virtue sure 

Is useless here, since thou art only found 
To cure, but not to wound, 
And she to wound, but not to cure. 
Too weak too wilt thou prove 
20 My passion to remove; 

Physic to other ills, thou'rt nourishment to Love. 



152 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxxx 

Sleep, sleep again, my Lyre! 
For thou canst never tell my humble tale 
In sounds that will prevail, 
Nor gentle thoughts in her inspire; 
5 All thy vain mirth lay by, 

Bid thy strings silent He, 
Sleep, sleep, again, my Lyre, and let thy master die* 

A. Cowley 



THE MANLY HEART 

Shall I, wasting in despair, 
Die because a woman's fair? 
Or make pale my cheeks with care 
'Cause another's rosy are? 
5 Be she fairer than the day 

Or the flowery meads in May — 
If she think not well of me 
What care I how fair she be? 

Shall my silly heart be pined 
10 'Cause I see a woman kind; 

Or a well disposed nature 

Joined with a lovely feature? 

Be she meeker, kinder, than 

Turtle-dove or pelican, 
15 If she be not so to me 

What care I how kind she be? 

Shall a woman's virtues move 
Me to perish for her love? 
Or her well-deservings known 
20 Make me quite forget mine own? 

Be she with that goodness blest 
Which may merit name of Best; 
If she be not such to me, 
What care I how good she be? 



cxxxii] Book Second A53 

'Cause her fortune seems too high. 

Shall I play the fool and die? 

She that bears a noble mind 

If not outward helps she find, 
5 Tliinks what with them he would do 

Who without them dares her woo; 
And unless that mind I see, 
What care I how great she be? 

Great or good, or kind or fair, 
10 I will ne'er the more despair; 

If she love me, this believe, 
I will die ere she shall grieve: 
If she slight me when I woo, 
I can scorn and let her go; 
15 For if she be not for me, 

What care I for whom she be? 

G. Wither 

cxxxii" 

MELANCHOLY 

Hence, all you vain delights. 
As short as are the nights 
Wherein you spend your folly: 
There's nought in this life sweet 
5 If man were wise to see't, 

But only melancholy, 
O sweetest Melancholy! 
Welcome, folded arms, and fixed eyes, 
A sigh that piercing mortifies, 
10 A look that's fasten'd to the ground, 
A tongue chain'd up without a sound I 
Fountain-heads and pathless groves, 
Places which pale passion loves! 
Moonlight walks, when all the fowls 
15 Are warmly housed save bats and owls! 
A midnight bell, a parting groan! 
These are the sounds we feed upon; 
Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley; 
Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy. 

J. Fletcher 



154 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxxxiii 



FORSAKEN 

O waly waly up the bank, - 

And waly waly down the brae, 
And waly waly yon burn-side 

Where I and my Love wont to gae! 
5 I leant my back unto an aik, 

I thought it was a trusty tree; 
But first it bow'd, and syne it brak. 

Sae my true Love did hchtly me. 

O waly waly, but love be bonny 
10 A httle time while it is new; 

But when 'tis auld, it waxeth cauld 
And fades awa' like morning dew. 
O wherefore should I busk my head? 
Or wherefore should I kame my hair? 
15 ' For my true Love has me forsook. 
And says he'll never loe me mair. 

Now Arthur-seat shall be my bed; 

The sheets shall ne'er be prest by me: 
Saint Anton's well sail be my drink, 
20 Since my true Love has forsaken me. 

Marti'mas wind, when wilt thou blaw 

And shake the green leaves ajff the tree? 
O gentle Death, when wilt thou come? 

For of my life I am wearie. 

25 'Tis not the frost, that freezes fell, 

Nor blawing snaw's inclemencie; 
'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry, 

But my Love's heart gro^vn cauld to meo 
When we came in by Glasgow towTi 
30 We were a comely sight to see; 

My Love was clad in the black velvet, 
And I mysell in cramasie. 



cxxxiv] Book Second 155 

But had I wist, before I kist, 

That love had been sae ill to "v\in; 
I had lockt my heart in a case of gowd 
And pinn'd it \^ith a siller pin. 
5 And, O! if my young babe were born, 

And set upon the nurse's knee. 
And I mysell were dead and gane, 

And the green grass gro\\'ing over mef 

Anon. 



CXXXIV 

Upon my lap my sovereign sits 
And sucks upon my breast; 
Meantim.e bjs love maintains my life 
And gives my sense her rest, 
a Sing lullaby, my httle boy, 

Sing lullaby, mine only joy! 

When thou hast taken thy repast, 

Repose, my babe, on me; 

So may thy mother and thy nurse 
10 Thy cradle also be. 

Sing lullaby, my little boy, 
Sing lullaby, mine only joy I 

I grieve that duty doth not work 
All that my wishing would, 
Id Because I would not be to thee 

But in the best 1 should. 

Sing lullaby, my little boy, 
Sing lullaby, mine only joy I 

Yet as I am, and as I may, 
20 I must and will be thine, 

Though all too little for thy self 
Vouchsafing to be mine. 

Sing lullaby, my little boy. 
Sing lullaby, mine only joy I 

Anon. 



156 Paigrave's Golden Treasury [cxxxv 



cxxxv 

FAIR HELEN 

I wish I were where Helen hes; 

Night and day on me she cries; 

O that I were where Helen lies 

On fair Kirconnell leal 

5 Curst be the heart that thought the thought, 
And curst the hand that fired the shot, 
When in my arms burd Helen dropt, 
And died to succor me! 

think na but my heart was sair 

10 When my Love dropt down and spak nae maipl 

1 laid her down wi' meikle care 

On fair Kirconnell lea. 

As I went down the water-side, 
None but my foe to be my guide, 
15 None but my foe to be my gviide, 
On fair Kirconnell lea; 

I lighted down my sword to draw, 
I hacked him in pieces sma', 
I hacked him in pieces sma', 
20 For her sake that died for m.e. 

O Helen fair, beyond compare! 
I'll make a garland of thy hair 
Shall bind my heart for evermair 
Until the day I die. 

25 O that I were where Helen liesi 
Night and day on me she cries; 
Out of my bed she bids me rise. 
Says, 'Haste and come to me!' 

O Helen fair! O Helen chaste! 
30 If I were with thee, I were blest, 

Where thou lies low and takes thy rest 
On fair Kirconnell lea. 



cxxxvij BooTc Seconn 167 

I wish my grave were growing green, 
A -vidnding-sheet drawn ower my een, 
And I in Helen's arms lying, 
On fair Kirconnell lea. 

r. I wish I were where Helen lies; 
Night and day on me she cries; 
4Lnd I am weary of the skies, 
Since ray Love died for me. 

Anon. 



CXXXVI 

THE TWA CORBIES 

As i was walking all alane 
1 heard twa corbies making a mane; 
The tane unto the t'other say, 
'Where sail we gang and dine today?* 

5 ' — In beliiut yon auld fail dyke, 

I wot there lies a new-slain Knight; 
And naebody kens that he lies there, 
But his hawk, lus hound, and lady faiF. 

'His hound is to the hunting gane, 
10 His hawk to fetch the wdld-fowl hame, 

His lady's ta'en another mate. 
So we may mak our dinner sweet. 

'Ye'll sit on liis white hause-bane, 
And I'll pick out his bonnie blue een: 
15 Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair 

We'll theek our nest when it grows bare. 

'Mony a one for him makes mane, 
But nane sail ken where he is gane; 
O'er liis white banes, when they are bare, 
20 The wind sail blaw for eyermair,' 

Anon. 



158 Palgrave's Golden Treasury fcxxxvii 



CXXXVII 

ON THE DEATH OF MR WILLIAM HERVEY 

It was a dismal and a fearful night, — 

Scarce could the Morn drive on th' unwilling light, 

When sleep, death's image, left my troubled breast, 

By something hker death possest. 
6 My eyes with tears did uncommanded flow, 

And OT] my soul hung the dull weight 

Of some intolerable fate. 
What bell was that? Ah me I Too much I knowl 

My sweet companion, and my gent'e peer, 
10 Why hast thou left me thus unkindly here, 
Thy end for ever, and my life, to moan? 

O thou hast left me all alone! 
Thy soul and body, when death's agony 
Besieged around thy noble heart, 
15 Did not with more reluctance part" 

Than I, my dearest friend, do part from thee. 

Ye fields of Camxbridge. our dear Cambridge, say, 

Have ye not seen us walking every day? 

Was there a tree about which did not know 
20 The love betwixt us two? 

Henceforth, ye gentle trees, for ever fade, 
Or your sad branches tliicker join. 
And into darksome shades combine, 

Dark as the grave wherein my friend is laid. 

25 Large was his soul; as large a soul as e'er 
Submitted to inform a body here; 
High as the place 'twas shortly in Heaven to have, 

But low and humble as his grave; 
So high that all the virtues there did come 
30 As to the cliiefest seat 

Conspicuous, and great; 
So low that for me too it made a room. 



cxxxviii] Book Second 159 

Knowledge he only sought, and so soon caught, 
As if for him knowledge had rather sought; 
Nor did more learning ever crowded lie 

In such a sl^kort mortahty. 
5 Whene'er the skilful youth discoursed or writ, 

Still did the notions throng 

About his eloquent tongue; 
Nor could liis ink flow faster than his wit. 

His mirth was the pure spirits of various wit, 
10 Yet never did his God or friends forget. 

And when deep talk and wisdom came in view. 

Retired, and gave to them their due. 
For the rich help of books he always took. 

Though his own^ searching mind before 
15 Was so with notions written o'er. 

As if wise Nature had made that her book. 

With as much zeal, devotion, piety, 
He always lived, as other saints do die. 
Still With, his soul severe account he kept, 
20 Weeping all debts out ere he slept. 

Then down in peace and innocence he lay, 
Like the sun's laborious light. 
Which still in water sets at night, 
Unsullied with liis journey of the day. 

A. Cowley 



CXXXVIII 

FRIENDS IN PARADISE 

They are all gone into the world of light! 

And I alone sit lingering here; 
Their very memory is fair and bright. 

And my sad thoughts doth clear:- — 

It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast, 

Like stars upon some gloomy grove, 
Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest, 
After the sun's remove 



160 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxxxviii 

I see them walking in an air of glory, 

Whose light doth trample on my days: 
My days, which are at best but dull and hoary, 
Mere glimmering and decays. 

5 O holy Hope! and high Humility, 
High as the heavens above! 
These are your walks, and you have shew'd them me, 
To kindle my cold love. 

Dear, beauteous Death! the jewel of the just, 
10 Shining no where, but in the dark; 

What mysteries do he beyond thy dust, 
Could man outlook that mark! 

He that hath found some fledged bird's nest, may 
know 
At first sight, if the bird be flown; 
15 But what fair well or grove he sings in now, 
That is to him unknown. 

And yet, as Angels in some brighter dreams 

Call to the soul, when man doth sleep; 
So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted 
themes, 
20 And into glory peep. 

H. Vaughan 



CXXXIX 

TO BLOSSOMS 

Fair pledges of a fruitful tree, 
Why do ye fall so fast? 
Your date is not so past, 

But you may stay yet here awhile 
To blush and gently smile, 
■ And go at last. 



Cxl] Book Second . 161 

What, were ye born to be 

An hour or half's dehght, 
And so to bid good-night? 
'Twas pity Nature brought ye forth 
5 Merely to show your worth, 

And lose you quite. 

But you are lovely leaves, where we 
May read how soon things have 
Their end, though ne'er so brave: 
10 And after they have shown their pride 

Like yovi, awliile. they glide 
Into the grave. 

R. Herrick 



TO DAFFODILS 

Fair Daffodils, we weep to see 
You haste away so soon: 
As yet the early-rising Sun 

Has not attain'd liis noon. 
5 Stay, stay. 

Until the hasting day 

Has run 
But to the even-song; 
And, having pray'd together, we 
10 Will go with you along. 

We have short time to stay, as you, 

We have as short a Spring; 
As quick a growth to meet decay 
As you, or any tiling, 
15 We die, 

As your hours do, and dry 

Away 
Like to the Summer's rain; 
Or as the pearls of morning',s dew 
20 Ne'er to be found again. 

R. Herrick 



1.32 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxJi 



CXLI 



THE GIRL DESCRIBES HER EAWN 



With sweetest milk and sugar first 

I it at my own fingers nursed; 

And as it grew, so every day 

It wax'd more white and sweet than they- 

It had so sweet a breatli! and oft 

I blush'd to see its foot more soft 

And white, — shall I say, — than my hand? 

Nay, any lady's of the land! 



It is a wondrous thing how fleet 
10 'Twas on those little silver feet: 

With what a pretty skipping grace 
It oft would challenge me the race: — • 
And when 't had left me far away 
'T would stay, and run again, and stay 
15 For it was nimbler much than hinds, 

And trod as if on the four winds. 



I have a garden of my owti. 

But so with roses overgrown 

And hlies, that you would it guess 
"^0 To be a little wilderness; 

And all the spring-time of the year 

It only loved to be there. 

Among the beds of hlies I 

Have sought it oft, where it should lie: 
25 Yet could not, till itself would rise. 

Find it, although before mine eyes: — - 

For in the flaxen lilies' shade 

It like a bank of lilies laid. 



cxlii] Book Second 1'63 

Upon the roses it would feed, 
Until its lips e'en seeni'd to bleed: 
And then to me 'twould boldly trip. 
And print those roses on my Up. 
5 But all its chief delight was still 

On roses thus itself to fill, 
And its pure virgin limbs to fold 
In wliitest sheets of lilies cold: — 
Had it hved long, it would have been 
10 Lilies without — roses within. 

A. Marvell 



THOUGHTS IN A GARDEN 

How vainly men themselves amaze 
To win the palm, the oak, or bays, 
And their uncessant labours see 
Crown'd from some single herb or tree, 
5 Whose short and narrow-verged shade 
Does prudently their toils upbraid; 
While all the flowers and trees do close 
To weave the garlands of Repose. 

Fair Quiet, have I found thee here 
10 And Innocence thy sister dear! 

Mistaken long, I sought you then 

In busy companies of men: 

Your sacred plants, if here below. 

Only among the plants will grow: 
15 Society is all but rude 

To this delicious solitude. 

No white nor red was ever seen 
So amorous as this lovely green. 
Fond lovers, cruel as their flame, 
20 Out in these trees their mistress' name: 
Little, alas, they know or heed 
How far these beauties hers exceed! 
Fair trees! Wheres'e'er your barks I wound, 
No name shall but your own be found. 



)64 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxlij 

When we have run our passions' heat 
Love hither makes his best retreat: 
The gods, who mortal beauty chase, 
Still in a tree did end their race; 
5 Apollo hunted Daphne so 

Only that she might laurel grow; 
And Pan did after Syrinx speed 
Not as a nymph, but for a reed. 

What wondrous life is this I lead! 
10 Ripe apples drop about my head; 

The luscious clusters of the vine 

Upon my mouth do crush their wine; 

The nectarine and curious peach 

Into my hand themselves do reach; 
15 Stumbhng on melons, as I pass, 

Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass. 

Meanwhile the mind from pleasure less 
Withdraws into its happiness; 
The mind, that ocean where each kind 
20 Does straight its own resemblance find; 
Yet it creates, transcending these, 
Far other worlds, and other seas; 
Annihilating all that's made 
To a green thought in a green shade. 

25 Here at the fountain's sliding foot 

Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root, 

Casting the body's vest aside 

My soul into the boughs does glide; 

There, like a bird, it sits and sings, 
30 Then whets and claps its silver wings, 

And, till prepared for longer flight. 

Waves in its plumes the various light. 

Such was that happy Garden-state 
While man there walk'd without a mate: 
35 After a place so pure and sweet, 

What other help could yet be meet! 
But 'twas beyond a mortal's share 
To wander solitary there: 



cxliii] Book Second 16^ 

Two paradises 'twere in one, 
To live in Paradise alone. 

How well the skilful gardener drew 
Of flowers and herbs this dial new! 
-f Where, from above, the milder sun 
Does through a fragrant zodiac rur • 
And, as it works, th' industrious bee 
Computes its time as well as we. 
How could such sweet and wholesome hours 
16 Be reckoned, but with herbs and flowers! 

A. Marvelt 



FORTUXATI NIMIUM 

Jack and Joan, they think no ill. 

But loving live, and merry still; 

Do their week-day's work, and pray 

Devoutly on the holy-day: 

Skip and trip it on the green, 

And help to choose the Summer Queen, 

Lash out at a country feast 

Their silver penny with the best. 

Well can they judge of nappy ale, 

And tell at large a winter tale; 

Chmb up to the apple loft, 

And turn the crabs till they be soft. 

Tib is all the father's joy. 

And httle Tom the mother's boy: — • 

All their pleasure is. Content, 

And care, to pay their yearly rent. 

Joan can call by name her cows 
And deck her windows with green boughs: 
She can wreaths and tutties make, 
And trim with plums a bridal cake. 
Jack knows what brings gain or loss, 
And his long flail can stoutly toss: 
Makes the hedge which others break. 
And ever thinks what he doth speak. 



166 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxliii 

— Now, you courtly dames and knights. 
That study only strange delights, 
Though you scorn the homespun gray. 
And revel in your rich array; 
5 Though your tongues dissemble deep 
And can your heads from danger keep; 
Yet, for all your pomp and train, 
Securer lives the silly swain! 

T. Campion 



L' ALLEGRO 

Hence, loathed Melancholy, 

Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born 
In Stygian cave forlorn 

'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights 
unholy! 
5 Find out some uncouth cell 

Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings 
And the night-raven sings; 

There under ebon shades, and low-brow' d rocks 
As ragged as thy locks, 
10 In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell. 

But come, thou Goddess fair and free, 

In heaven yclept Euphrosyne, 

And by men, heart-easing Mirth, 

Whom lovely Venus at a birth 
15 With two sister Graces more 

To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore; 

Or whether (as some sager sing) 

The frolic wind that breathes the spring 

Zephyr, with Aurora playing, 
20 As he met her once a-Maying — 

There on beds of violets blue 

And fresh-blown roses wash'd in dew 

Fiird her with thee, a daughter fair, 

So buxom, bhthe, and debonair. 



hook Second 167 

Haste thee, Nymph, and bring wath thee 
Jest, and youthful jollity, 
Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles, 
Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles 
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek. 
And love to live in dimple sleek; 
Sport that wrinkled Care derides, 
And Laughter holding both his sides: — 
Come, and trip it as you go 
On the light fantastic toe; 
And in thy right hand lead with thee 
The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty: 
And if I give thee honour due 
Mirth, admit me of thy crew, 
To live with her and live with tnee 
In unreproved pleasures free; 
To hear the lark begin his flight 
And singing startle the dull night 
From his watch-tower in the skies, 
Till the dappled dawn doth rise; 
Then to come, in spite of sorrow, 
And at my window bid good-morrow 
Through the sweet briar, or the vine, 
Or the twisted eglantine: 
While the cock with lively din 
Scatters the rear of darkness thin, 
And to the stack, or the barn-door. 
Stoutly struts his dames before: 
Oft listening how the houncte and horn 
Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn, 
From the side of some hoar hill. 
Through the high wood echoing shrill: 
Sometime walking, not unseen. 
By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green, 
Right against the eastern gate 
Where the great Sun begins his state 
Robed in flames and amber light, 
The clouds in thousand liveries dight; 
While the ploughman, near at hand. 
Whistles o'er the furrow'd land, 
And the milkmaid singeth blithe, 
And the mower whets his scythe, 



168 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxliv 

And every shepherd tells his tale 

Under the hawthorn in the dale. 

Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures 

Whilst the landscape round it measures; 
6 Russet lawns, and fallows gray, 

Where the nibbling flocks do stray; 

Mountains, on whose barren breast 

The labouring clouds do often rest; 

Meadows trim with daisies pied, 
10 Shallow brooks, and rivers wide; 

Towers and battlements it sees 

Bosom'd high in tufted trees. 

Where perhaps some Beauty lies, 

The CjTiosure of neighbouring eyes. 
15 Hard by, a cottage chimney smokes 

From betwixt two aged oaks, 

Where Corydon and Thyrsis, met, 

Are at their savoury dinner set 

Of herbs, and other country messes 
20 Which the neat-handed Philhs dresses; 

And then in haste her bower she leaves 

With Thestylis to bind the sheaves; 

Or, if the earlier season lead. 

To the tann'd haycock in the mead. 
25 Sometimes with secure delight 

The upland hamlets will invite. 

When the merry bells ring round, 

And the jocund rebecks sound 

To many a youth and many a maid, 
30 Dancing in the chequer'd shade; 

And young and old come forth to play 

On a sun-shine holyday. 

Till the live-long day-light fail: 

Then to the spicy nut-brown ale, 
35 With stories told of many a feat, 

How Faery Mab the junkets eat: — 

She was pinch'd, and pull'd, she said; 

And he, by Friar's lantern led; 

Tells how the drudging Goblin sweat 
40 To earn his cream-bowl duly set. 

When in one night, ere glimpse of mom, 

His shadowy flail hath thresh'd the corn 



Book Second 139 

That ten day-labourers could not end; 
Then lies him down the lubber fiend, 
And, stretch'd out ail the chimney's length, 
Basks at the fire his hairy strength; 
And crop-full out of doors he flings, 
Ere the first cock his matin rings. 

Thus done the tales, to bed they creep 
By wliispering \\-inds soon lull'd asleep. 

Tower'd cities please us then 
And the busy hum of men, 
Where throngs of knights and barons bold. 
In weeds of peace, high triumphs hold. 
With store of ladies, whose bright eyes 
Rain influence, and judge the prize 
Of wit or arms, while both contend 
To win her grace, whom all commend. 
There let Hj^'men oft appear 
In saffron robe, v.ith taper clear, 
And pomp, and feast, and revelry, 
With mask, and antique pageantry; ^ 

Such sights as youthful poets dream 
On summer eves by haunted stream. 
Then to the well-trod stage anon. 
If Jonson's learned sock be on, 
Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, 
Warble his native wood-notes wild. 

And ever against eating cares 
Lap me in soft Lydian airs 
Married to immortal verse, 
Such as the meeting soul may pierce 
In notes, with many a winding bout 
Of linked sweetness long dra^^•n out. 
With wanton heed and giddy cunning. 
The melting voice through mazes running, 
Untmsting all the chains thai tie 
The hidden soul of harmony; 
That Orpheus' self may heave his head 
From golden slumber, 0:1 a bed 
Of heap'd Elysian flowers, and hear 
Such strains as would have won the ear 
Of Pluto, to have quite set free 
His half-regained Eurydice, 



170 PaJgrave's Golden Treasury Fcxliv 

These delights if thou canst give, 
Mirth, with thee I mean to hve. 

J, Milton 



IL PENSEROSO 

Hence, vain deluding Joj^s, 

The brood of Folly without father bred: 
How little you bestead 

Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys' 
5 Dwell in some idle brain. 

And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess 
As thick and numberless 

As the gay motes that people the sunbeams, 
^ Or likest hovering dreams, 
10 The fickle pensioners of Morpheus' train. 

But hail, thou goddess sage and holy. 
Hail, divinest Melancholy! 
Whose saintly visage is too bright 
To hit the sense of human sight, 

15 And therefore to our weaker view 

O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue; 
Black, but such as in esteem 
Prince Memnon's sister might beseem. 
Or that starr'd Ethiop queen that strove 

20 To set her beauty's praise above 

The sea-nymphs, and their powers offended 
Yet thou art higher far descended: 
Thee bright-hair'd Vesta, long of yore. 
To solitary Saturn bore; 

25 His daughter she; in Saturn's reign 

Such mixture was not held a stain: 
Oft in glimmering bowers and glades 
He met her, and in secret shades 
Of woody Ida's inmost grove, 

30 While yet there was no fear of Jove, 



Book Second 171 

Come, pensive Nun, devout ?nd pure, 
Sober, steadfast, and demure, 
All in a robe of darkest grain 
Following with majestic train, 
And sable stole of Cipres lawn 
Over thy decent shoulders drawn: 
Come, but keep thy wonted state, 
With even step, and musing gait, 
And looks commercing with the skies, 
Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes: 
There, held in holy passion still, 
Forget thyself to marble, till 
With a sad leaden downward cast 
Thou fix them on the earth as fast: 
And join with thee calm Peace, and Quiet, 
Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet, 
And hears the Muses in a ring 
Aye round about Jove's altar sing: 
And add to these retired Leisure 
That in trim gardens takes his pleasure: — 
But first and chiefest, with thee bring 
Him that yon soars on golden wing 
Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne, 
The cherub Contemplation; 
And the mute Silence hist along, 
'Less Philomel will deign a song 
In her sweetest saddest plight 
Smoothing the rugged brow of Night, 
While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke 
Gently o'er the accustom'd oak. 
— Sweet bird, that shunn'-fet the noise of folly 
Most musical, most melancholy! 
Thee, chauntress, oft, the woods among 
I woo, to hear thy even-song; 
And missing thee, I w^alk unseen 
On the dry smooth-shaven green, 
To behold the wandering Moon 
Riding near her highest noon. 
Like one that had been led astray 
Through the heaven's wdde pathless way, 
And oft, as if her head she bow'd, 
Stooping through a fleecy cloud. 



172 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxlv 

Oft, on a plat of rising ground 

I hear the far-off Curfeu sound 

Over some wi de- water' d shore, 

Swinging slow with sullen roar: 
b Or, if the air will not permit, 

Some still removed place will fit. 

Where glowing embers through the room 

Teach light to counterfeit a gloom; 

Far from all resort of mirth, 
10 Save the cricket on the hearth. 

Or the bellman's drowsy charm 

To bless the doors from nightly harm. 
Or let my lamp at midnight hour 

Be seen in some high lonely tower, 
15 Where I may oft out-watch the Bear 

With thrice-great Hermes, or unsphere 

The spirit of Plato, to unfold 

What worlds or what vast regions hold 

The immortal mind, that hath forsook 
30 Her mansion in this fleshly nook: 

And of those demons that are found 

In fire, air, flood, or under ground, 

Whose power hath a true consent 

With planet, or with element. 
25 Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy 

In scepter' d pall come sweeping by, 

Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line, 

Or the tale of Troy divine: 

Or what (though rare) of later age 
30 Ennobled hath the buskin'd stage. 

But, O sad Virgin, that thy power 

Might raise Musaeus from bJs bower. 

Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing 

Such notes as, warbled to the string, 
35 Drew iron tears do^^Ti Pluto's cheek 

And made Hell grant what Love did seek! 

Or call up him that left half-told 

The story of Cambuscan bold, 

Of Camball, and of Algarsife, 
40 And who had Canace to wife 

That own'd the virtuous ring and glass; 

And of the wondrous horse of brass 



Book Second ITS 

On which the Tartar king did ride. 
And if aught else great bards beside 
In sage and solemn tunes have sung 
Of turneys, and of trophies hung, 
Of forests, and enchantments drear. 
Where more is meant than meets the ear. 

Thus, Night, oft see me in thy pale career, 
Till ci\d] -suited Morn appear, 
Not trick'd and frounced as she was wont 
With the Attic Boy to hunt. 
But kercheft in a comely cloud 
While rocking wands are piping loud. 
Or usher' d with a shower still, 
When the gust hath bloA\Ti liis fill, 
Ending on the rustling leaves 
With minute drops from off the eave"?. 
And when the sun begins to fling ^ 
His flaring beams, me, goddess, bring 
To arched walks of twahght groves, 
And shadows browm, that Sylvan loves. 
Of pine, or monumental oak, 
Where the rude axe, with heaved stroke, 
W^as never heard the n^Tnphs to daunt 
Or fright them from their hallow' d haunfc. 
There in close covert by some brook 
Where no profaner eye may look, 
Hide me from day's garish eye. 
While the bee with honey'd tliigh 
That at her flowery work doth sing, 
And the waters murmuring, 
With such consort as they keep 
Entice the dewy-feather'd Sleep; 
And let som.e strange mysterious dream 
W^ave at his wings in airj^ stream 
Of lively portraiture display'd, 
Softly on my eyelids laid: 
And, as I w^ake, SAveet music breathe 
Above, about, or underneath, 
Sent by some Spirit to mortals good, 
Or the unseen Genius of the wood. 

But let my due feet never fail 
To walk the studious cloister's pale. 



174 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxiv 

And love the high-embowed roof, 

With antique pillars massy proof, 

And storied windows richly dight 

Casting a dim religious light. 
5 There let the pealing organ blow 

To the full-voiced quire below 

In service high and anthems clear, 

As may with sweetness, through mine ear, 

Dissolve me into ecstasies, 
10 And bring all Heaven before mine eyes. 

And may at last my weary age 

Find out the peaceful hermitage, 

The hairy gowTi and mossy cell 

Where I may sit and rightly spell 
15 Of every star that heaven doth shew, 

And eveiy herb that sips the dew; 

Till old experience do attain 

To something like- prophetic strain. 

These pleasures, Melancholy, give, 
20 And I T\dth thee wall choose to hve. 

J. Milton 



SONG OF THE EMIGRANTS IN BERMUDA 

Where the remote Bermudas ride 
In the ocean's bosom unespied. 
From a small boat that row'd along 
The listening winds received this song. 
5 'What should we do but sing His praise 

That led us through the watery maze 
Where He the huge sea-monsters wracks, 
That lift the deep upon their backs, 
Unto an isle so long unknown, 
10 And yet far kinder than our own? 

He lands us on a grassy stage. 
Safe from the storms, and prelate's rage: 
He gave us this eternal Spring 
Which here enamels everytliing, 



cxh'iil Book Second 175 

And sends the fowls to us in care 

On daily visits through the air. 

He hangs in shades the orange bright 

Like golden lamps in a green night, 
5 And does in the pomegranates close 

Jewels more rich than Ormus shows: 

He makes the figs our mouths to meet 

And throws the melons at our feet; 

But apples plants of such a price, 
10 No tree could ever bear them twice. 

With cedars chosen by His hand 

From Lebanon He stores the land; 

And makes the hollow seas that roar * 

Proclaim the ambergris on sho'-e, 
15 He cast (of which we rather boast) 

The Gospel's pearl upon oar coast; 

And in these rocks for us did frame 

A temple where to sound His name. 

Oh! let our voice His praise exalt 
20 Till it arrive at Heaven's vault, 

Wliich thence (perhaps) rebounding may 

Echo beyond the Mexique bay!' 

— Thus sung they in the English boat 

A holy and a cheerful note: 
25 And all the way, to guide their chime j 

With falhng oars they kept the time. ; 

A. Marvell 



CXLVII 

AT A SOLEMN MUSIC 

Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy, 
Sphere-born harmonious Sisters, Voice and Verse! 
Wed your di\ane sounds, and mixt power employ. 
Dead things with inbreathed sense able to pierce; 
And to our high-raised phantasy present 
That undisturbed Song of pure concent 
Aye sung before the sapphire-colour'd throne 
To Him that sits thereon. 



'7G Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxlvij 

With saintly shout and solemn jubilee; 
Where the bright Seraphim in burning row 
Their loud uplifted angel-trumpets blow; 
And the Cherubic host in thousand quires 

6 Touch their immortal harps of golden wires, 

With those just spirits that wear victorious palms, 
Hymns devout and holy psalms 
Singing everlastingly: 
That v/e on Earth, with undiscording voice 

10 May rightly answer that melodious noise; 
As once we did, till disproportion'd sin 
Jarr'd against nature's cliime, and with harsh din 
Broke the fair music that all creatures made 
To their great Lord, whose love their motion sway'd 

15 In perfect diapason, whilst they stood 

In first obedience, and their state of good. 
O may we soon again renew that Song, 
And keep in tune with Heaven, till God ere long 
To His celestial consort us unite, 
To live with Him, and sing in endless morn of light I 

J. Milton 



NOX NOCTI IN Die AT SCI EN TI AM 

When I survey the bright 
Celestial sphere: 
So rich with jewels hung, that night 
Doth like an Ethiop bride appear; 

5 My soul her wings doth spread, 

And heaven-ward flies, 
The Almighty's mysteries to read 
In the large volumes of the skies. 

For the bright firmament 
10 Shoots forth no flame 

So silent, but is eloquent 
In speaking the Creator's name. 



cxlviii] Book Second 177 

No unregarded star 
Contracts its light 
Into so small a character, 
Removed far from our human sight, 

5 But if we steadfast look, 

We shall discern 
In it as in some holy book. 
How man may heavenly knowledge learn. 

It tells the Conqueror, 
10 That far-st retch' d power 

Which his proud dangers traffic for, 
Is but the triumph of an hour. 

That from the farthest North 
Some nation may 
15 Yet undiscover'd issue forth, 

And o'er his new-got conquest sway. 

Some nation yet shut in 
With hills of ice, 
May be let out to scourge his sin, 
20 Till they shall equal liim in vice. 

And then they likewise shall 
Their ruin have; 
For as yourselves your Empires fall. 
And every Kingdom hath a grave. 

25 Thus those celestial fires, 

Though seeming mute. 
The fallacy of our desires 
And all the pride of hfe, confute. 

For they have watch'd since first 
30 The World had birth: 

And found sin in itself accursed, 
And nothing permanent on earth. 

W. Habington 



178 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxlix 

CXLIX 

HYMN TO DARKNESS 

Hail thou most sacred venerable thing! ' 

What Muse is worthy thee to sing? 
Thee, from whose pregnant universal womb 
All things, ev'n Light, thy rival, first did come. 
5 What dares he not attempt that sings of thee 

Thou first and greatest mystery? 
Who can the secrets of thy essence tell? 
Thou, hke the Hght of God, art inaccessible. 

Before great Love this monument did raise, 
10 This ample theatre of praise; 

Before the folding circles of the sky 
Were tuned by Him, Who is all harmony 
Before the morning Stars their hymn begtiA, 
Before the council held for man, 
15 Before the birth of either time or place. 

Thou reign' st unquestion'd monarch in the empty 
space. 

Thy native lot thou didst to Light resign, 

But still half of the globe is thine. 
Here with a quiet, but yet awful hand, 
20 Like the best emperors thou dost command. 

To thee the stars above their brightness owe, 

And mortals their repose below: 
To thy protection fear and sorrow flee, 
And those that weary are of light, find rest in thee. 
J. N^orris of Bemerton 



cli] Jdook Second 179 

CL 

A VISION 

I saw Eternity the other night, 

Like a great ring of pure and endless light, 

All calm, as it was bright: — 
And round beneath it, Time, in hours, days, years, 
5 Driven by the spheres, 

Like a vast shadow moved; in which the World 
And all her train were hurl'd. 

H. Vaughan 



ALEXAXDER'S FEAST, OR, THE POWER 
OF MUSIC 

'Twas at the royal feast for Persia won 

By Philip's warlike son — 

Aloft in awful state 

The godlike hero sate 
5 On liis imperial throne; 

His valiant peers were placed around, 

Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound 

(So should desert in arms be crown'd); 

The lovely Thais by his side 
'i.0 Sate like a blooming Eastern bride 

In flower of youth and beauty's pride: — 

Happy, happy, happy pair! 

None but the brave 

None but the brave 
15 None but the brave deserves the fair! 

Timotheus placed on high 
Amid the tuneful quire 
With flying fingers touch'd the lyre: 
The trembling notes ascend the sky 
20 And heavenly joys inspire. 
The song began from Jove 
Who left his blissful seats above — • 



180 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cli 

Such is the power of mighty love! 

A dragon's fiery form behed the god; 

Subhme on radiant spires he rode 

When he to fair Olympia prest^ 
5 And while he sought her snowy breast, 

Then round her slender waist he curl'd, 

And stamp' d an image of himself, a sovereign of the 
world. 

— ^The listening crowd admire the lofty sound; 

A present deity! they shout around: 
10 A present deity! the vaulted roofs rebound* 

With ravish' d ears 

The monarch hears, 

Assumes the god; 

Affects to nod 
15 And seems to shake the spheres. 

The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung, 

Of Bacchus ever fair and ever young; 

The jolly god in triumph comes; 

Sound the trumpets, beat the drums! 
20 Flush'd with a purple grace 

He shows his honest face: 

Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes! 

Bacchus, ever fair and young, 

Drinking joys did first ordain; 
25 Bacchus' blessings are a treasure, 

Drinking is the soldier's pleasure: 

Rich the treasure, 

Sweet the pleasure, 

Sweet is pleasure after pain. 

30 Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain; 

Fought all his battles o'er again, 

And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew 
the slain! 

The master saw the madness rise, 

His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes; 
35 And while he Heaven and Earth defied 

Changed his hand and check'd his pride. 

He chose a mournful Muse 

Soft pity to infuse: 



cli] Book Second 181 

He sung Darius great and good, 
By too severe a fate 
Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen, 
Fallen from his liigh estate, 
5 And weltering in his blood; 
Deserted at liis utmost need 
By those his former bounty fed; 
On the bare earth exposed he lies 
With not a friend to close his eye^. 
10 — With downcast looks the joyless victor sate, 
Revolving in his alter'd soul 
The various turns of Chance below; 
And now and then a sigh he stole, 
And tears began to flow. 

15 The mighty master smiled to see 

That love was in the next degree; 

'Twas but a kindred-sound to move, 

For pity melts the mind to love. 

Softly sweet, in Lydian measures 
20 Soon he soothed his soul to pleasures. 

War, he sung, is toil and trouble, 

Honour but an empty bubble; 

Never ending, still beginning. 

Fighting still, and still destropng; 
25 If the world be worth thy winning. 

Think, O think, it worth enjoying: 

Lovely Thais sits beside thee, 

Take the good the gods pro\ide theel 

— The many rend the skies with loud applause; 
30 So LoVe was croAMi'd, but Music won the cause. 

The prince, unable to conceal his pain, 

Gazed on the fair 

Who caused his care, 

And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and look'd, 
35 Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again: 

At length with love and vm\Q at once opprest 

The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast. 

Now strike the golden lyre again: 
A louder yet, and yet a louder strain! 
40 Break his bands of sleep asunder 

And rouse him like a rattlins: Deal of thunder. 



182 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cli 

Hark, hark! the horrid sound 

Has raised up his head: 

As awaked from the dead 

And amazed he stares around. 
5 Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries, 

See the Furies arise! 

See the snakes that they rear 

How they liiss in their hair, 

And the sparkles that flash from their eyes! 
10 Behold a ghastly band. 

Each a torch in liis hand! 

Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain 

And unburied remain 

Inglorious on the plain: 
15 Give the vengeance due 

To the valiant crew! 

Behold how they toss their torches on high, 

How they point to the Persian abodes 

And glittering temples of their hostile gods. 
20 — The princes applaud with a furious joy: 

And the King seized a flambeau ^^^th zeal to destroy; 

Thais led the way 

To light him to his prey, 

And like another Helen, fired another Troy! 

25 — ^Thus, long ago, 

Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow, 

While organs yet were mute, 

Timotheus, to his breathing flute 

And sounding lyre 
30 Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire. 

At last divine Cecilia came, 

Inventress of the vocal frame; 

The sweet enthusiast from her sacred store 

Enlarged the former narrow bounds, 
35 And added length to solemn sounds. 

With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before 

— Let old Timotheus yield the prize 

Or both divide the crown; 

He raised a mortal to the skies; 
40 She drew an angel down! 

J. Dryden 



13oDk CftitD 



ODE ON THE PLEASURE ARISIXG FROM 
VICISSITUDE 

Now the golden Morn aloft 

Waves her dew bespangled ^^^ng, 
With vermeil cheek and whisper soft 
She woos the tardy Spring: 
5 Till April starts, and calls around 

The sleeping fragrance from the ground. 
And Hghtly o'er the hving scene 
Scatters his freshest, tenderest green. 

New-born flocks, in rustic dance, 
10 Frisking ply their feeble feet; 

Forgetful of their wintry trance 
The birds his presence greet: 

But chief, the skylark warbles high 

His trembling thriUing ecstacy; 
15 And lessening from the dazzled sight, 

Melts into air and liquid light. 

Yesterday the sullen year 

Saw the snowy whirlwind fly; 
Mute was the music of the air, 
20 The herd stood drooping by: 

Their raptures now that wildly flow 
No yesterday nor morrow know; 
'Tis Man alone that joy descries 
With forward and reverted eyes. 
183 



184 Palgrave's Golden Treasury fclii 

Smiles on past inisfortune's brow 
Soft reflection's hand can trace, 
And o'er the cheek of sorrow throw 
A melancholy grace; 
5 While hope prolongs our happier hour, 

Or deepest shades that dimly lour 
And blacken round our weary way, 
Gilds with a gleam of distant day 

Still, where rosy pleasure leads, 
10 See a kindred grief pursue ; 

Behind the steps that misery treads 
Approaching comfort view: 

The hues of bliss more brightly glow 

Chastised by sabler tints of woe, 
15 And blended form, with artful strife, 

The strength and harmony of life. 

See the wretch that long has tost 
On the thorny bed of pain, 
\ At length repair his vigour lost 

20 And breathe and walk again: 

The meanest floweret of the vale, 
The simplest note that swells the gale, 
The common sun, the air, the skies, 
To liim are opening Paradise. 

T, Gray 



ODE TO SIMPLICITY 

O Thou, by Nature taught 

To breathe her genuine thought 
In numbers warmly pure, and sweetly strong; 

Who first, on mountains wild, 
5 In Fancy, loveliest child. 

Thy babe, or Pleasure's, nursed the powers of song! 

Thou, who with hermit heart, 

Disdain'st the wealth of art. 
And gauds, and pageant weeds, and trailing pall, 
10 But com'st, a decent maid 

In Attic robe array' d, 
O chaste, unboastful Nymph, to thee I call! 



cliii] Book Third 185 

By all the honey' d store 

On Hybla's thyniy shore, 
By all her blooms and mingled murmurs dear 

By her w hose love-lorn woe 
5 In evening musings slow 

Soothed sweetly sad Electra's poet's ear; 

By old Cephisus deep, 

V/ho spread his wavy sweep 
In warbled wanderings round thy green retreat; 
10 On whose enamell'd side, 

When holy Freedom died, 
No equal haunt allured thy future feet: — 

O sister meek of Truth, 
To my admiring youth 
15 Thy sober aid and native charms infuse! 
The flowers that sweetest breathe. 
Though Beauty cull'd the wreath, 
Still ask thy hand to range their order' d hues 

While Rome could none esteem 
20 But Virtue's patriot theme. 

You loved her hills, and led her laureat band; 

But stay'd to sing alone 

To one distinguisli'd throne; 
And turn'd thy face, and fled her alter'd land. 

25 No more, in hall or bower. 

The Passions own thy power; 
Love, only Love, her forceless numbers mean: 

For thou hast left her shrine; 

Nor olive more, nor \'ine, 
30 Shall gain thy feet to bless the servile scene. 

Though taste, though genius, bless 

To some divine excess. 
Faints the cold work till thou inspire the whole; 

What each, what all supply 
35 May court, may charm our eye; 

Thou, only thou, canst raise the meeting scul! 

Of these let others ask 
To aid some mighty task; 



186 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cliii 

T only seek to find thy temperate vale; 

Where oft my reed might sound 

To maids and shepherds round, 
And all thy sons, O Nature! learn my tale. 

W. Collins 



SOLITUDE 

Happy the man, whose wish and care 
A few paternal acres bound, 
Content to breathe his native air 

In his own ground. 
5 Whose herds with milk, whost. fields with bread. 
Whose flocks supply him with attire; 
Whose trees in summer yield him shade, 

In winter fire. 
Blest, who can unconcem'dly find 
10 Hours, days, and years, slide soft away 
In health of body, peace of mind. 

Quiet by day, 
Sound sleep by night; study and ease 
Together mixt, sweet recreation, 
15 And innocence, which most does please 
With meditation. 
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown; 
Thus unlamented let me die; 
Steal from the world, and not a stone 
20 Tell where I lie, 

A. Pope 

CLV 

THE BLIND BOY 

O say what is that thing call'd Light, 

Which I must ne'er enjoy; 
What are the blessings of the sight, 

O tell your poor blind boy' 



clvi] Book Third 187 

You talk of wondrous things you see, 
You say the sun shines bright; 

I feel him warm, but how can he 
Or make it day or night? 

5 My day or night myself I make 

Whene'er I sleep or play; 
And could I ever keep awake 
With me 'twere always day. 

With heaxy sighs I often hear 
10 You mourn my hapless woe; 

But sure with patience I can bear 
A loss I ne'er can know. 

Then let not what I cannot have 
My cheer of mind destroy: 
15 Whilst thus I sing, I am a king, 

Although a poor blind boy. 

C. Gibber 



ON A FAVOURITE CAT, DROWNED IN A 
TUB OF GOLD FISHES 

'Twas on a lofty vase's side, 
Where China's gayest art had dyed 
The azure flowers that blow, 
Demurest of the tabby kind 
5 The pensive Sehma, reclined. 

Gazed on the lake below. 

Her conscious tail her joy declared: 
The fair round face, the sno\Ny beard, 
The velvet of her paws, 
10 Her coat that with the tortoise vies^ 

Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes — 
She saw, and purr'd applause. 

Still had she gazed, but 'midst the tide 
Two angel forms were seen to glide, 



188 Palgrave's Golden Treasury |_clvj 

The Genii of the stream: 
Their scaly armour's Tyrian hue 
Through richest purple, to the view 
Betray' d a golden gleam. 

5 The hapless Nymph with wonder saw: 

A whisker first, and then a claw 
With many an ardent Ansh 
She stretch' d, in vain, to reach the prize — 
What female heart can gold despise? 
10 What Cat's averse to fish? 

Presumptuous maid! with looks intent 
Again she stretch'd, again she bent, 
Nor knew the gulf between — 
Malignant Fate sat by and smiled — 
15 The slippery verge her feet beguiled; 

She tumbled headlong in! 

Eight times emerging from the flood 
She mew'd to every watery God 
Some speedy aid to send: — 
20 No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirr'd, 

Nor cruel Tom nor Susan heard — 
A favourite has no friend! 

From hence, ye Beauties! undeceived 
Know one false step is ne'er retrieved, 
25 And be with caution bold: 

Not all that tempts your wandering eyes 
And heedless hearts, is lawful prize, 
Nor all that glisters, gold! 

T. Gray 



CLVII 

TO CHARLOTTE PULTENEY 

Timely blossom, Infant fair. 
Fondling of a happy pair. 
Every mom and every night 
Their solicitous delight. 
Sleeping, waking, still at ease, 



clviii] Book Third 189 

Pleasing, without skill to please; 

Little gossip, blithe and hale, 

Tatthng many a broken tale, 

Singing many a tuneless song, 
5 Lavish of a heedless tongue; 

Simple maiden, void of art, 

Babbling out the very heart, 

Yet abandon'd to thy will, 

Yet imagining no ill, 
10 Yet too innocent to blush; 

Like the linnet in the bush 

To the mother-linnet's note 

ModuHng her slender throat; 

Cliirping forth thy petty joys, 
15 Wanton in the change of toys. 

Like the linnet green, in May 

Flitting to each bloomy spray; 

Wearied then and glad of rest, 

Like the linnet in the nest: — 
20 This thy present happy lot 

This, in time will be forgot: 

Other pleasures, other cares, 

Ever-busy Time prepares; 
And thou shalt in thy daughter see, 
25 Tliis picture, once, resembled thee. 

A. Philips 



RULE BRITANNIA 

When Britain first at Heaven's command 

Arose from out the azure main. 
This was the charter of her land. 

And guardian angels sung the strain: 
5 Rule, Britannia! Britannia rules the waves! 
Britons never shall be slaves. 

The nations not so blest as thee 

Must in their turn to tyrants fall. 
Whilst thou shalt flourish great and free 
10 The dread and envy of them all. 



190 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clviil 

Still more majestic shalt thou rise, 

More dreadful from each foreign stroke: 

As the loud blast that tears the skies 
Serves but to root thy native oak. 

5 Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame; 

All their attempts to bend thee down 
Will but arouse thy generous flame, 
And work their woe and thy renown. 

To thee belongs the rural reign: 
10 Thy cities shall with commerce shine; 

All thine shall be the subject main, 
And every shore it circles thine! 

The Muses, still with Freedom found, 
Shall to thy happy coast repair; 
15 Ljlest Isle, with matchless beauty crown'd 

And manly hearts to guard the fair: — 
Rule, Britannia! Britannia rules the waves! 
Britons never shall be slaves! 

J. Thomson 



THE BARD 

Pindaric Ode 

'Ruin seize thee, ruthless King! 
Confusion on thy banners wait; 
Tho' fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing 
They mock the air with idle state. 
5 Helm, nor hauberk's twisted mail. 

Nor e'en thy virtues. Tyrant, shall avail 
To save thy secret soul from nightly fears, 
From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!' 
— Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride 
10 Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay. 
As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side 

He wound with toilsome march his long array:— 
Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless trance: 



clix] Book Third 191 

*To arms!' cried Mortimer, and coiich'd liis quivering 
lance. 

On a rock, whose haughty brow 
Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, 
Robed in the sable garb of woe 
5 With haggard eyes the Poet stood; 
(Loose his beard and hoary hair 
Stream'd like a meteor to the troubled air) 
And with a master's hand and prophet's fire 
Struck the deep sorrows of liis lyre: 
10 'Hark, how each giant-oak and desert-cave 
Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath! 
O'er thee, oh King! their hundred arms they wave, 

Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe; 
Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day, 
15 To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay. 

'Cold is Cadwallo's tongue, 

That hush'd the stormy main: 
Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed: 

Mountains, ye mourn in vain 
20 Modred, whose magic song 

Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topt head. 

On dreary Arvon's shore they he 
Smear'd with gore and ghastly pale: 
Far, far aloof the affrighted ravens sail; 
25 The famish' d eagle screams, and passes by. 
Dear lost companions of my tuneful art. 

Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes. 
Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart, 

Ye died amidst your dying country's cries — 
30 No more I weep; They do not sleep; 

On yonder clifTs, a griesly band, 
I see them sit; They linger yet. 

Avengers of their native land: 
With me in dreadful harmony they join, 
35 And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line. 

Weave the warp and weave the '>"iof 

The winding sheet of Edward s race; 
Give ample room and verge enough 

The characters of hell to trace. 



192 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clix 

Mark the year, and mark the night, 
When Severn shall re-echo with affright' 
The shrieks of death thro' Berkley's roof that ring, 
Shrieks of an agonizing king! 
5 She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs 
That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate, 

From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs 
The scourge of heaven! What terrors round him wait! 
Amazement in his van, with flight combined, 
10 And sorrow's faded form, and solitude behind. 

'Mighty victor, mighty lord, 

Low on his funeral couch he lies! 
No pitying heart, no eye, afford 

A tear to grace his obsequies. 
15 Is the sable warrior fled? 

Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead. 
The swarm that in thy noon-tide beam were born? 
— Gone to salute the rising morn. 
Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the zephyr blows, 
20 While proudly riding o'er the azure realm 
In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes: 

Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm: 
Regardless of the svjeeping whirlwind's sway. 
That hush'd in grim repose expects his evening prey. 

25 'Fill high the sparkling bowl. 
The rich repast prepare; 

Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast: 
Close by the regal chair 

Fell Thirst and Famine scowl 
30 A balefid smile upon their baffled guest, 
Heard ye the din of battle bray. 

Lance to lance, and horse to horse? 

Long years of havock urge their destined course^ 
And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way. 

Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, 
With many a foul and midnight murder fed. 

Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame 
And spare the meek usurper's holy head! 
Above ^ below, the rose of snow. 



35 



elix] Book Third 193 

Twined with her blushing foe, we spread: 
The bristled, boar in infant-gore 

Walloivs beneath the thorny shade. 
Now, brothers, bending o'er the accursed loom, 
5 Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom. 

^Edward, lol to sudden fate 

(Weave we the woof; The thread is spun;) 
Half of thy heart we consecrate. 

{The web is wove; The work is done.) 
!0 —Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn 

Leave me iinbless'd, unpitied, here to mourn: 
In yon bright track that fires the western skies 
They meh, they vanish from my eyes. 
But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height 
15 Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll? 
Visions of glory, spare my aching sight, 
Ye unborn ages, crowd not m my soul! 
No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail: — 
All hail, ye genuine kings! Britannia's issue, hail! 

20 'Girt -vv^th many a baron bold 

Sublime their starry fronts t\\Qy rear; 

And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old 
In bearded majesty, appear. 
In the midst a form divine! 
25 Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line: 
Her lion-port, her awe-commandiijg face 
Attemper' d sweet to virgin-grace 
What strings symphonious tremble in the air, 
What strains of vocal transport round her play? 
30 Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear; 
They breathe a soul to animate thy clay. 
Bright Rapture calls, and soaring as she sings, 
Waves in the eye of heaven he^ many-colour' d wings. 

'The verse adorn again 
35 Fierce war, and faithful love, 

And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest. 
In buskin' d measures move 

Pale grief, and pleasing pain. 

With horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast. 
40 A voice as of the cherub-choir 



194 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clix 

Gales from blooming Eden bear, 
And distant warblings lessen on my ear 
That lost in long futurity expire. 

Fond impious man, think' st thou yon sanguine cloud 
5 Raised by thy breath, has quench' d the orb of day? 
To-morrow he repairs the golden flood 

And warms the nations with redoubled ray. 
Enough for me: with joy I see 

The different doom our fates assign: 
10 Be thine despair and sceptred care, 
To triumph and to die are mine.' 
— He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's 

height 
Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night. 

T. Gray 



ODE WRITTEN IN 1746 

How sleep the brave, who sink to rest 
By all their country's wishes blest! 
When Spring, ^^^th dewy fingers cold, 
Returns to deck their hallow'd mould, 
5 She there shall dress a sweeter sod 

Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. 

By fairy hands their knell is rung, 
By forms ■ unseen their dirge is sung: 
There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray, 
10 To bless the turf that wraps their clay; 

And Freedom shall awhile repair 
To dwell a weeping hermit there! 

TT^. Collins 

CLXI 

LAMENT FOR CULLODEN 

The lovely lass o' Inverness, 
Nae joy nor pleasure can she see; 
For e'en and morn she cries, Alas! 
And aye the saut tear blins her ee : 
5 Drumossie moor — Drumossie day — 



clxiij Book Tnird 196 

A waefu' day it was to me! 
For there I lost my father dear, 
My father dear, and brethren three. 

Their w4nding-sheet the bluidy clay, 
5 Their graves are growing green to see: 

And by them hes the dearest lad 
That ever blest a woman's ee! 
Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord, 
A bluidy man I trow thou be; 
10 For mony a heart thou hast made sair 

That ne'er did wrang to thine or thee. 

R. Burns \ 



LAMENT FOR FLODDEN 

I've heard them lilting at our ewe-milking, 

Lasses a' lilting before dawn o' day; 
But now they are moaning on ilka green loaning — 

The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away. 

5 At bughts, in the morning, nae blythe lads are scorn- 
ing, 
Lasses are lonely and dowie and wae; 
Nae daffin', nae gabbin', but sighing and sabbing, 
Ilk ane lifts her leglin and hies her away. 

In har'st, at the shearing, nae youths now are jeering, 
10 Bandsters are lyart, and runkled, and gray; 

At fair or at preaching, nae wooing, nae fleeching — 
The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away. 

At e'en, in the gloaming, nae younkers are roaming 
'Bout stacks wi' the lasses at bogle to play; 
15 But ilk ane sits drearie, lamenting her dearie — 
The Flowers of the Forest are weded aw^ay. 

Dool and wae for the order, sent our lads to the Border I 

The EngHsh, for ance, by guile w^an the day; 
The Flowers of the Forest, that fought aye the fore- 
most, 
20 The prime of our land, are cauld in the clay. 



196 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clxii 

We'll hear nae mair lilting at the ewe-milking; 

Women and bairns are heartless and wae; 
Sighing and moaning on ilka green loaning — 

The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away. 

J. Elliott 

CLXIII 

THE BRAES OF YARROW 

Thy braes were bonny, Yarrow stream, 
When first on them I met my lover; 
Thy braes how dreary, Yarrow stream. 
When now thy waves his body cover! 
5 For ever now, O Yarrow stream! 

Thou art to me a stream of sorrow; 
For never on thy banks shall I 
Behold my Love, the flower of Yarrow! 

He promised me a milk-white steed 

10 To bear me to his father's bowers; 

He promised me a little page 
To squire me to his father's towers; 
He promised me a wedding-ring, — 
The wedding-day was fix'd to-morrow; — 

15 Now he is wedded to his grave, 

Alas, his watery grave, in Yarrow! 

Sweet were his words when last we met; 
My passion I as freely told him; 
Clasp'd in his arms, I little thought 
20 That I should never more behold him! 

Scarce was he gone, I saw his ghost; 
It vanish'd with a shriek of sorrow; 
Thrice did the water-wraith ascend, 
And gave a doleful groan thro' Yarrow. 

25 His mother from the window look'd 

With all the longing of a mother; 
His little sister weeping walk'd 
The green-wood path to meet her brother; 
They sought him east, they sought him west, 

30 They sought him all the forest thorough; 

They only saw the cloud of night, 
They only heard the roar of Yarrow. 



clxivj Book Third 197 

No longer from thy window look — 
Thou hast no son, thou tender mother! 
No longer walk, thou lovely maid; 
Alas, thou hast no more a brother! 
5 No longer seek him east or west 

And search no more the forest thorough; 
For, wandering in the night so dark, 
He fell a lifeless corpse in Yarrow. 

The tear shall never leave my cheek, 
10 No other youth shall be my marrow — 

I'll seek thy body in the stream. 
And then with thee I'll sleep in Yarrow. 
— The tear did never leave her cheek. 
No other youth became her marrow; 
15 She found his body in the stream. 

And now with him she sleeps in Yarrow. 

J . Logan 



WILLY DROWNED IN YARROW 

Down in yon garden sweet and gay 
Where bonnie grows the lily, 

I heard a fair maid sigliing say, 
*My wash be wi' sweet Willie! 

5 'Willie's rare, and Willie's fair, 

And Willie's wondrous bonny; 
And Willie hecht to marry me 
Gin e'er he married ony. 

'O gentle wind, that bloweth south, 
10 From where my Love repaireth, 

Convey a kiss frae his dear mouth 
And tell me how he fareth! 

'O tell sweet Willie to come doun 
And hear the mavis singing, 
15 And see the birds on ilka bush 

And leaves around them hinging. 



198 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clxiv 

*The lav'rock there, wi' her white breast 

And gentle throat sae narrow; 

There's sport eneuch for gentlemen 

On Leader haughs and Yarrow. 

5 *0 Leader haughs are -wide and braid 

And Yarrow haughs are bonny; 
There Willie hecht to marry me 
If e'er he married ony. 

'But Willie's gone, whom I thought on, 
10 And does not hear me weeping; 

Draws many a tear frae true love's e'e 
When other maids are sleeping. 

'Yestreen I made my bed fu' braid, 
The night I'll make it narrow, 
15 For a' the Hve-lang winter night 

I lie twined o' my marrow, 

*0 came ye by yon water-side? 

Pou'd you the rose or lily? 
Or came you by yon meadow green, 
20 Or saw you my sweet WiUie?' 

She sought him up, she sought him downj, 
She sought him braid and narrow; 

Syne, in the cleaving of a craig. 
She found him drown' d in Yarrow! 

Anon^ 

CLXV 

LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE 

Toll for the Brave! 
The brave that are no morel 
All sunk beneath the wave 
Fast by their native shore! 

5 Eight hundred of the brave 

Whose courage well was tried. 
Had made the vessel heel 
And l^id her on her side. 



Book Third 199 

A land-breeze shook the shrouds 
And. she was overset; 
Down went the Royal George, 
With all her crew complete. 

Toll for the brave! 
Brave Kempenfelt is gone; 
His last sea-fight is fought, 
His work of glory done. 

It was not in the battle; 
No tempest gave the shock; 
She sprang no fatal leak, 
She ran upon no rock. 

His sword was in its sheath. 
His fingers held the pen, 
When Kempenfelt went down 
With twice four hmidred men. 

— Weigh the vessel up 
Once dreaded by our foes! 
And mingle with our cup 
The tears that England owes. 

Her timbers yet are sound, 

And she may float again 

Full charged with England's thunder, 

And plough the distant main: 

But Kempenfelt is gone, 
His victories are o'er; 
And he and his eight hundred 
Shall plough the wave no more. 
W. Cowper 

CLXVI 

BLACK-EYED SUSAN 

All in the Downs the fleet was moor'd, 
The streamers wa^^ng in the \^^nd, 

When black-eyed Susan came aboard; 
'O! where shall I my true-love find? 

Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true 

If my sweet William sails among the crew.' 



200 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clxvi 

William, who high upon the yard 
Rock'd with tlie billow to and fro, 

Soon as her well-known voice he heard 
He sigh'd, and cast his eyes below: 
5 The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands, 

And quick as lightning on the deck he stands. 

So the sweet lark, high poised in air. 

Shuts close his pinions to his breast 
If chance his mate's shrill call he hear, 
10 And drops at once into her nest: — 

The noblest captain in the British fleet 
Might envy Wilham's lip those kisses sweet. 

*0 Susan, Susan, lovely dear.. 

My vows shall ever true remain; 
15 Let me kiss off that falling tear; 

We only part to meet again. 
Change as ye list, ye winds; my heart shall be 
The faithful compass that still points to thee. 

'Believe not what the landmen say 
20 Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind: 

They'll tell thee, sailors, when away. 

In every port a mistress find: 
Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so, 
For Thou art present wheresoe'er I go. 

25 'If to fair India's coast we sail, 

Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright, 
Thy breath is Afric's spicy gale, 

Thy skin is ivory so white. 
Thus every beauteous object that I view 
30 Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue 

'Though battle call me from thy arms 

Let not my pretty Susan mourn; 
Though cannons roar, yet safe from harms 

William shall to his Dear return. 
35 Love turns aside the balls that round me fly 

Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's ^ye. 

T'he boatswain gave the dreadful word, 
The sails their swelling bosom spread 
No longer must she stay aboard; 



clxvii] BooTc Third 201 

They kiss 'd, she sigh 'd, he hung his head. 
Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land ; 
' Adieu ! ' she cries ; and waved her lily hand. 

J. Gay. 

CLXVII 

SALLY IN OUB ALLEY 

Of all the girls that are so smart 

There 's none like pretty Sally ; 
She is the darling of my heart, 

And she lives in our alley. 
5 There is no lady in the land 

Is half so sweet as Sally; 
She is the darling of my heart 

And she lives in our alley. 

Her father he makes cabbage nets 
10 And through the streets does cry 'em 5 

Her mother she sells laces long 
To such as please to buy 'em : 
But sure such folks could ne'er beget 
So sweet a girl as Sally ! 
15 She is the darling of my heart, 

And she lives in our alley. 

When she is by, I leave my work, 

I love her so sincerely; 
My master comes, like any Turk, 
20 And bangs me most severely — 

But let him bang his bellyful, 

I '11 bear it all for Sally ; 
She is the darling of my heart, 

And she lives in our alley. 

25 Of all the days that's in the week 

I dearly love but one day — 
And that's the day that comes betwixt 

A Saturday and Monday; 
For then I'm drest all in mv best 
30 To walk abroad with Sally; 

She is the darling of my heart, 
And she lives in our alley. 



202 Palgrave's Golden Treasury |,clxvii 

My master carries me to churchy 

And often am I blamed 
Because I leave him in the lurch 

As soon as text is named; 
5 I leave the church in sermon-time 

And slink away to Sally; 
She is the darling of my heart, 

And she lives in our alley. 

When Christmas comes about again 
10 O then I shall have money; 

I'll hoard it up, and box it all, 

I'll give it to my honey: 
I would it were ten thousand pounds 
I'd give it all to Sally; 
15 She is the darling of my heart, 

And she lives in our alley. 

My master and the neighbors all 

Make game of me and Sally, 
And, but for her, I'd better be 
20 A slave and row a galley; 

But when my seven long years are out 

O then I'll marry Sally, — 
O then we '11 wed, and then we '11 bed . 
But not in our alley! 

H. Carey 



CLXVIII 

A FAREWELL 

Go fetch to me a pint o' wine^ 

An' fill it in a silver tassie; 
That I may drink before I go 

A service to my bonnie lassie: 
The boat rocks at the pier o' Leith, 

Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the ferry,; 
The ship rides b;^ the Berwick-law, 

And I maun leave my bonnie Mary, 



clxix] Book Third 203 

The trumpets sound, the banners fly, 

The gHttering spears are ranked ready; 
The shouts o' war are heard afar, 
The battle closes tliick and bloody; 
6 But it's not the roar o' sea or shore 

Wad make me langer wish to tarry; 
Nor shout o' war that's heard afar — 
It's leaving thee, my bonnie Mary. 

R. Burns 



If doughty deeds my lady please 

Right soon I'll mount my steed; 
And strong his arm, and fast his seat 
That bears frae me the meed. 
5 I'll wear thy colours in my cap 

Thy picture at my heart; 
And he that bends not to thine eye 
Shall rue it to his smart! 

Then tell me how to woo thee, Love; 
10 O tell me how to woo thee! 

For thy dear sake, nae care I'll take 
Tho' ne'er another trow me. 

If gay attire delight thine eye 
I'll dight me in array; 
15 I'll tend thy chamber door all night, 

And squire thee all the day. 
If sweetest sounds can win thine ear, 

These sounds I'll strive to catch; 

Thy voice I'll steal to woo thysell, 

20, That voice that nane can match. 

But if fond love thy heart can srain. 

I never broke a Vv. w , 
Nae maiden lays her skaith to 1*4^, 

I never loved but yen. 
25 For you alone I ride the nr.g. 

For you I wear the blue; 
For you alone I strive to sing, 

O tell me how to woo! 



204 Palgrave^s Golden Treasury [clxix 

Then tell me how to woo thee, Love; 

O tell me how to woo thee! 
For thy dear sake, nae care I'll take, 

Tho' ne'er another trow me. 

R. Graham of Gartmore 



CLXX 

TO A YOUNG LADY 

Sweet stream, that winds through yonder glade, 

Apt emblem of a virtuous maid — 

Silent and chaste she steals along, 

Far from the world's gay busy throng: 
5 With gentle yet prevailing force, 

Intent upon her destined course; 

Graceful and useful all she does, 

Blessing and blest where'er she goes; 

Pure-bosom' d as that watery glass, 
10 And Heaven reflected in her face. 

W. Cowper 

CLXXI 

THE SLEEPING BEAUTY 

Sleep on, and dream of Heaven awhile — 
Tho' shut so close thy laughing eyes, 
Thy rosy lips still wear a smile 
And move, and breathe dehcious sighs! 

s 

b Ah, now soft blushes tinge her cheeks 
And mantle o'er her neck of snow: 
Ah, now she murmurs, now she speaks 
What most I wish — and fear to know! 

She starts, she trembles, and she weeps! 
fO Her fair hands folded on her breast: 

— And now, how like a saint she sleeps! 
A seraph in the realms of rest! 



cixxiii] Book Third 205 

Sleep on secure! Above controul 
Thy thoughts belong to Heaven and thee: 
And. may the secret of thy soul 
Remain witliin its sanctuary! 



S. Rogers 



CLXXII 



For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove 
An unrelenting foe to Love, 
And when we meet a mutual heart 
Come in between, and bid us part? 

5 Bid us sigh on from day to day, 

And wish and wish the soul away; 
Till youth and genial years are flown, 
And all the Hfe of life is gone? 

But busy, busy, still art thou, 
10 To bind the loveless joyless vow. 

The heart from pleasure to delude, 
To join the gentle to the rude. 

For once, O Fortune, hear my prayer. 
And I absolve thy future care; 
15 All other blessings I resign. 

Make but the dear Amanda mine. 

J. Thomson 

CLxxm 

The merchant, to secure his treasure, 
Conveys it in a borrow' d name: 
Euphelia serves to grace my measure 
But Cloe is my real flame. 

5 My softest verse, my darling lyre 

Upon Euphelia's toilet lay — 
When Cloe noted her desire 
That I should sing, that I should play. 

My lyre I tune, my voice I raise, 
10 But with my numbers mix my sighs; 

And whilst I sing Euphelia's praise, 
I fix my soul on Cloe's eyes. 



206 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clxxiii 

Fair Cloe blush' d; Euphelia frown'd: 
I sung, and gazed; I play'd, and trembled; 
And Venus to the Loves around 
Remark'd how ill we all dissembled. 

M. Prior 



CLXXIV 

LOVE'S SECRET 

Never seek to tell thy love, 
Love that never told can be; 

For the gentle wind doth move 
Silently, invisibly. 

5 I told my love, I told my love, 

I told her all my heart, 
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears :- 
Ah* she did depart. 

Soon after she was gone from me 
10 A traveller came by, 

Silently, invisibly: 

He took her with a sigh. 

W. Blake 



CLXXV 

When lovely woman stoops to folly 
And finds too late that men betray, — • 
What charm can soothe her melancholy, 
What art can wash her guilt away? 

The only art her guilt to cover, 
To hide her shame from every eye. 
To give repentance to her lover 
And wring his bosom, is — to die. 

O. Goldmt££k 



clxxvii] Book Third 207 



Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon 
How can ye blume sae fair! 

How can ye chant, ye little birds, 
And I sae fu' o' care! 

5 Thou '11 break my heart, thou bonnie bird 

That sings upon the bough; 
Thou minds me o' the happy days 
When my fause Luve was true. 

Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird 
10 That sings beside thy mate; 

For sae I sat, and sae I sang, 
And wist na o' my fate. 

Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon 
To see the woodbine twine, 
15 And ilka bird sang o' its love; 

And sae did I o' mine. 

Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, 

Frae aff its thorny tree; 
And my fause luver staw the rose, 
20, But left the thorn wi' me„ 

R. Bums 



CLXXVII 

THE PROGRESS OF POESY 

A Pindaric Ode 

Awake, Aeolian lyre, awake, 
And give to rapture all thy trembling strings. 
From Helicon's harmonious springs 

A thousand rills their mazy progress taV*5; 
The laughing flowers that round them blow 
Drink life and fragrance as they flow. 
Now the rich stream of music winds along 
Deep, majestic, smooth, and strong, 



208 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clxxvii 

Thro' verdant vales, and Ceres' golden reign; 

Now rolling down the steep amain 

Headlong, impetuous, see it pour: 

The rocks and nodding groves re-bellow to the roar. 

5 Oh! Sovereign of the willing soul, 

Parent of sweet and solemn-breatJiing airs, 
Enchanting shell! the sullen Cares 

And frantic Passions hear thy soft controul, 
On Thracia's hills the Lord of War 

JO Has curb'd the fury of liis car 

And dropt his thirsty lance at thy command. 
Perching on the sceptred hand 
Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king 
With ruffled plumes, and flagging wing: 

15 Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie 

The terror of his beak, and lightnings of his eye. 

Thee the voice, the dance, obey 

Temper' d to thy warbled lay. 

O'er Idalia's velvet-green 
20 The rosy-crowned Loves are seen 

On Cytherea's day; 

With antic Sport, and blue-eyed Pleasures, 

Frisking light in frolic measures; 

Now pursuing, now retreating, ' . 

25 Now in circling troops they meet: 

To brisk notes in cadence beating 
Glance their many-twinkling feet. 

Slow melting strains their Queen's approach declare: 
Where'er she turns, the Graces homage pay: 
30 With arms sublime that float upon the air 
In gliding state she wins her easy way. 

O'er her warm cheek and rising bosom move 

The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love. 

Man's feeble race what ills await! 
35 Labour, and Penury, the racks of Pain, 
Disease, and Sorrow's weeping train, 

And Death, sad refuge from the storms of fatel 
The fond complaint, my song, disprove, 
A.nd justify the laws of Jove. 



clxxviij Book Third 209 

Sa>, has he given in vain the heavenly Muse? 
Night, and all her sickly dews, 
Her spectres wan, and birds of boding cry- 
He gives to range the dreary sky: 
5 Till down the eastern cliffs afar 

Hyperion's march they spy, and glittering shafts of war. 

In chmes beyond the solar road 

Where shaggy forms o'er ice-built mountains roam, 

The Muse has broke the twilight gloom 
10 To cheer the sliivering native's dull abode. 

And oft, beneath the odorous shade 

Of Chili's boundless forests laid, 

She deigns to hear the savage youth repeat 

In loose numbers wildly sweet 
x5 Their feather-cinctured chiefs, and dusky loves. 

Her track, where'er the goddess roves, 

Glory pursue, and generous Shame, 

Th' unconquerable Mind, and Freedom's holy flame. 

Woods, that wave o'er Delplii's steep, 
20 Isles, that crown th' Aegean deep, 

Fields that cool Ilissus laves, 

Or where Maeander's amber waves 

In lingering labyrinths creep. 

How do your tuneful echoes languish, 
25 Mute, but to the voice of anguish I 

Where each old poetic mountain 
Inspiration breathed around; 

Every shade and hallow' d fountain 

Murmur' d deep a solemn sound: 

30 Till the sad Nine, in Greece's evil hour 

Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains. 

Alike they scorn the pomp of tyrant Power, 
And coward A^ice, that revels in her chains. 

When Latium had her lofty spirit lost, 
35 They sought, oh Albion! next, thy sea-encircled coast. 
Far from the sum and summer-gale 

In thy green lap was Nature's Darling laid, 

What time, where lucid Avon stray'd, 
To him the mighty Mother did unveil 
40 Her awful face: the dauntless child 

Stretch'd forth his h'^^tle arms, and smiled. 



210 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clxxyiS 

'This pencil take' (she said), 'whose colours clear 
Richly paint the vernal year: 
Thine, too, these golden keys, immortal Boy 
This can unlock the gates of joy; 
5 Of horror that, and thriUing fears, 

Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears.' 

Nor second He, that rode sublime 

Upon the seraph -wings of Extasy 

The secrets of the abyss to spy: 
10 He pass'd the flaming bounds of place and time.' 

The living Throne, the sapphire-blaze 

Where angels tremble while they gaze, 

He saw; but blasted with excess of light, 

Closed his eyes in endless night. 
15 Behold where Dry den's less presumptuous car 

Wide o'er the fields of glory bear 

Two coursers of ethereal race. 

With necks in thunder clothed, and long-resounding 
pace. 

Hark, his hands the lyre explore! 
20 Bright-eyed Fancy, hovering o'er. 
Scatters from her pictured urn 
Thoughts that breathe, and words that bum. 
But ah! 'tis heard no more — 
Oh! lyre divine, what daring spirit 
25 Wakes thee now? Tho' he inherit 
Nor the pride, nor ample pinion. 

That the Theban eagle bear, 
Sailing with supreme dominion 

Thro' the azure deep of air: - ' 

30 Yet oft before his infant eyes would run 
Such forms as glitter in the Muse's ray 
With orient hues, unborrow'd of the sun: 

Yet shall he mount, and keep liis distant way 
Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate: 
35 Beneath the Good how far — but far above the Great. 

T, Gray 



clxx\dii] Book Third 211 

CLXXVIII 

THE PASSIONS 
An Ode for Music 

When Music, heavenly maid, Avas young, 

While yet in early Greece she sung. 

The Passions oft, to hear her shell, 

Throng'd around her magic cell 
5 Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting, 

Possest beyond the ]\luse's painting; 

By turns they felt the glowing mind 

Disturb'd, delighted, raised, refined: 

'Till once, 'tis said, when all were fired, 
10 Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspired. 

From the supporting myrtles round 

They snatch'd her instruments of sound, 

And, as they oft had heard apart 

Sweet lessons of her forceful art, 
15 Each (for Madness ruled the hour) 

Would prove his own expressive power. 

First Fear his hand, its skill to try, 

Amid the chords bewilder'd laid, 

And back recoil' d, he knew not why, 

20 E'en at the sound himself had made. 

Next Anger rush'd, his eyes on fire, 
In lightnings, o^^^l'd his secret stings; 

In one rude clash he struck the lyre 

And swept with hurried hand the strings. 

25 With woeful measures wan Despair, 

Low sullen sounds, liis grief beguiled; 
A solemn, strange, and mingled air, 

'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild. 

But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair, 
30 What was thy delighted measure? 
Still it w^iisper'd promised pleasure 

And bade the lovely scenes at distance haill 
Still would her touch the strain prolong; 

And from the rocks, the woods, the vale 



212 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clxxviii 

She call'd on Echo still through all the song; 
And, where her sweetest theme she chose, 
A soft responsive voice was heard at every close; 

And Hope enchanted smiled, and waved her golden 
hair; — 

5 And longer had she sung: — but with a frown 
Revenge impatient rose: 
He threw his blood-stain' d sword in thunder down; 
And with a withering look 
The war-denouncing trumpet took 
10 And blew a blast so loud and dread, 

Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe! 
And ever and anon he beat 
The doubhng drum with furious heat; 
And, though sometimes, each dreary pause between, 
15 Dejected Pity at his side 

Her soul-subduing voice applied, 
Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien. 
While each strain'd ball of sight seem'd bursting from 
his head. 

Thy numbers. Jealousy, to nought were fix'd: 
20 Sad proof of thy distressful state! 

Of differing themes the veering song was mix'd; 
And now it courted Love, now raving call'd on Hate. 

With' eyes up-raised, as one inspired, 
Pale Melancholy sat retired; 
25 And from her wild sequester'd seat. 
In notes by distance made more sweet, 
Pour'd through the mellow horn her pensive soul: 
And dashing soft from rocks around 
Bubbhng runnels join'd the sound; 
30 Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole, 
Or, o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay, 
Round an holy calm diffusing. 
Love of peace, and lonely musing 
In hollow murmurs died away. 

35 But 01 how alter'd was its sprightlier tone 
When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue. 



elxxviii] Book Third 213 

Her bow across her shoulder flung, 
Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew, 

Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung, 
The hunter's call to Faun and Dryad kno^n! 
; 5 The oak-crown'd Sisters and their chaste-eyed Queen, 
Satyrs and Sylvan Boys, were seen 
Peeping from forth their alleys green: 

Bro'WTi Exercise rejoiced to hear; 
And Sport leapt up, and seized liis beechen spear. 

10 Last came Joy's ecstatic trial: 
He, with viny croAAii advancing. 

First to the lively pipe his hand addrest: 
But soon he saw the brisk awakening viol 

Whose sweet entrancing voice he loved the best: 
15 They would have thought who heard the strain 
They saw, in Tempe's vale, her native maids 
Amidst the festal-sounding shades 
To some unwearied minstrel dancing; 
While, as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings, 
20 Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round: 
Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound; 
And he, amidst his frolic play, 
As if he would the charming air repay, 
Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings. 

25 O Music! sphere-descended maid, 

Friend of Pleasure, Wisdom's aid! 

Why, goddess! why, to us denied, 

Lay'st thou thy ancient lyre aside? 

As in that loved Athenian bower 
30 You leam'd an all-commanding power, 

Thy mimic soul, O NjTnph endear'd, 

Can well recall what then it heard. 

Where is thy native simple heart 

Devote to Virtue, Fancy, Art? 
35 Arise, as in that elder time, 

Warm, energic, chaste, sublime! 

Thy wonders, in that god-like age, 

Fill thy recording Sister's page; — 

'Tis said, and I believe the tale, 
40 Thy hum.blest reed could more prevail. 



214 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clxxvjii 

Had more of strength, diviner rage, 
Than all which charms this laggard age: 
E'en all at once together found, 
Cecilia's mingled world of sound: — 
5 O bid our vain endeavours cease: 

Revive the just designs of Greece: 
Return in all thy simple state! 
Confirm the tales her sons relate! 

W. Collins 



THE SONG OF DAVID 

He sang of God, the mighty source 
Of all things, the stupendous force 

On which all strength depends: 
From Whose right arm, beneath Whose eyes, 
5 All period, power, and enterprise 

Commences, reigns, and ends. 

The world, the clustering sj heres He made, 
The glorious light, the soothing shade, 
Dale, champaign, grove and hill: 
10 The multitudinous abyss, 

• Where secrecy remains in bliss, 
And wisdom hides her skill. 

Tell them, I AM, Jehovah said 
To Moses: while Earth heard in dread, 
15 And, smitten to the heart, 

At once, above, beneath, around, 
All Nature, without voice or sound, 
RepHed, 'O Lord, THOU ART.' 

C. Smart 



cixxxij Book Third 215 

CLXXX 

INFANT JOY 

*I have no name; 
I am but two days old.' 
—What shall I call thee? 
'I happy am; 
5 Joy is my name.' 

— Sweet joy befall thee! 

Pretty joy! 

Sweet joy, but two days old; 
Sweet joy I call thee: 
10 Thou dost smile: 

I sing the while, 
Sweet joy befall thee! 

TT^ Blake 



A CRADLE SONG 

I 

CLXXXI 

Sleep, sleep, beauty bright, 
Dreaming in the joys of night; 
Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep 
Little sorrows sit and weep. 

5 Sweet babe, in thy face 

Soft desires I can trace. 
Secret joys and secret smiles, 
Little pretty infant wiles. 

As thy softest limbs I feel, 
XO Smiles as of the morning steal 

O'er thy cheek, and o'er thy breast 
Where thy little heart doth rest. 

Oh the cunning wiles that creep 
In thy httle heart asleep! 
15 When thy little heart doth wake, 

Then the dreadful light shall break. 
W. Blak9 



216 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clxxxii 



ODE ON THE SPRING 

Lo! where the rosy-bosom' d Hours, 

Fair Venus' train, appear, 
Disclose the long-expecting flowers 

And wake the purple year! 
6 The Attic warbler pours her throat 

Responsive to the cuckoo's note, 
The untaught harmony of Spring: 
While, whispering pleasure as they fly, 
Cool Zephyrs thro' the clear blue sky 
M) Their gathered fragrance fling. 

Where'er the oak's tliick branches stretch 

A broader, browner shade, 
Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech 
O'er-canopies the glade, 

15 Beside some water's rushy brink 

With me the Muse shall sit, and think 
(At ease reclined in rustic state) 
How vain the ardour of the crowd. 
How low, how little are the proud, 

20 How indigent the great! 

Still is the toiling hand of Care; 

The panting herds repose: 
Yet hark, how thro' the peopled air 
The busy murmur glows! 

25 The insect-youth are on the wing, 

Eager to taste the honied spring 
And float amid the hquid noon: 
Some lightly o'er the current skim. 
Some show their gaily-gilded trim 

30 Quick-glancing to the sun. 

To Contemplation's sober eye 

Such is the race of Man: 
And they that creep, and they that fly 

Shall end where they began. 
35 Alike the Busy and the Gay 



clxxxiii] book Third 217 

But flutter thro' life's little day, 
In Fortune's varying colours drest: 
Brush' d by the hand of rough JVIischance, 
Or chill'd by Age, their airy dance 
5 They leave, in dust to rest. 

Methinks I hear in accents low 

The sportive kind reply: 
Poor morahst! and what art thou? 
A solitary fly! 
10 Thy joys no glittering female meets, 

No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets, 
No painted plumage to display: 
On hasty wings thy youth is flown; 
Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone — 
15 We frolic while 'tis May. 

T. Gray 



CLXXXIII 

THE POPLAR FIELD 

The poplars are fell'd; farewell to the shade 
And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade; 
The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves, 
Ncr Ouse on his bosom their image receives. 

5 Twelve years have elapsed since I first took a xiew 
Of my favourite field, and the bank where they grew: 
And now in the grass behold they are laid. 
And the tree is my seat that once lent me a shade! 

The blackbird has fled to another retreat 
10 Where the hazels afTord him a screen from the heat : 
And the scene where his melody charm'd me before 
Resounds with his sweet-flowing ditty no more. 

My fugitive years are all hasting away. 
And I must ere long lie as lowly as they, 
15 With a turf on my breast and a stone at my head, 
Ere another such grove shall arise in its stead. 



218 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clxxxiii 

The change both my heart and my fancy employs; 
I reflect on the frailty of man and his joys: 
Short-lived as we are, yet our pleasures, we see, 
Have a still shorter date, and die sooner than we. 

W. Cowper 



TO A MOUSE 

On turning her up in her nest, vnth the plough, 
November, 1785 

Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie, 

wiiat a panic's in thy breastie! 
'Ihou need na start awa sae hasty, 
VVi' bickering brattle! 

5 I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee 

Wi' murd'ring pattle! 

I'm truly sorry man's dominion 
Has broken Nature's social union, 
An' justifies that ill opinion 
10 Which makes thee startle 

At me, thy poor earth-born companion, 
An' fellow-mortal! 

1 doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve; 
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live! 

15 A daimen-icker in a thrave 

'S a sma' request: 
I'll get a blessin' wi' the lave, 
And never miss't! 

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin! 
20 Its silly wa's the win's are strewin: 

And naething, now, to big a new ane, 
O' foggage green! 

An' bleak December's winds ensuin' 
Baith snell an' keen! 



clxxxv? Book Third 219 

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste 
An' weary winter comin' fast, 
An' cozie here, beneath the blast, 
Thou thought to dwell, 
5 Till, crash! the cruel coulter past 

Out thro' thy cell. 

That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble 
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble! 
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble, 
10 But house or hald, 

To thole the winter's sleety dribble 
An' cranreuch cauld! 

But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane 
In proving foresight may be vain: 
15 The best laid schemes o' mice an' men 

Gang aft a-gley, 

An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, 
For promised joy. 

Still thou art blest, compared wi' me! 
20 The present only toucheth thee: 

But, Och! I backward cast my e'e 
On prospects drear! 
An' forward, tho' I canna see, 
I guess an' fear! 

R. Burns 

CLXXXV 

A WISH 

Mine be a cot beside the hill; 
A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear; 
A willo\\y brook that turns a mill, 
With many a fall shall linger near. 

5 The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch 

Shall t\^■itter from her clay-built nest; 
Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch, 
And share my meal, a welcome guest. 



220 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clxxxv 

Around my ivied porch shall spring 
Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew; 
And Liicy, at her wheel, shall sing 
In russet-gown and apron blue. 

5 The village-church among the trees, 

Where first our marriage-vows were given, 
With merry peals shall swell the breeze 
And point with taper spire to Heaven. 

S. Rogers 



ODE TO EVENING 

If aught of oaten stop or pastoral song 

May hope, O pensive Eve, to soothe thine ear 

Like thy own solemn springs, 

Thy springs, and dying gales; 

5 O NjTnph reserved, — while now the bright-hair'd sun 
Sits in yon western tent, whose cloudy skirts, 
With brede ethereal wove, 
O'erhang his wa\y bed; 

Now air is hush'd, save whei'e the weak-eyed bat 
10 With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing. 
Or where the beetle winds 
His small but sullen horn. 

As oft he rises midst the twilight path, 
Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum, — ' 
15 Now teach me, maid composed. 

To breathe some soften'd strain 

Whose numbers, stealing through thy darkening vale. 
May not unseemly with its stillness suit; 
As, musing slow, I hail 
20 Thy genial loved return. 



clxxxvi] ' Book Third 221 

For when thy folding-star arising shows 
His paly circlet, at liis warning lamp 

The fragrant Hours, and Elves 

Who slept in buds the day, 

6 And many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with 
sedge 
And sheds the freshening dew, and, lovelier still, 
The pensive Pleasures sweet, 
Prepare thy shadowy car. 

Then let me rove some wild and heathy scene; 
iO Or find some ruin midst its dreary dells, 
Whose walls more awful nod 
By thy religious gleams. 

Or, if chill blustering winds oi driving rain 
Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut 
15 That, from the mountain's side, 

Views wilds and sweUing floods, 

And hamlets brown, and dim-discover'd spires; 
And hears their simple bell; and marks o'er all 
Thy dewy fingers draw 
20 The gradual dusky veil. 

While Spring shall pour his showers, as oft he wont. 
And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Eve! 

While Summer loves to sport 

Beneath thy hngering light; 

25 While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves; 
Or Winter, yelling through the troublous air, 
Affrights thy shrinking train 
And rudely rends thy robes; 

So long, regardful of thy quiet rule, 
30 Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, smiling Peace, 
Thy gentlest influence o-v\'n, 
And love thy favourite name! 

W. Collins 



222 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clxxx\ai 

CLXXXVTI 

ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY 
CHURCHYARD 

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, 
The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea, 
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, 
And leaves the world to darkness and to me. 

5 Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, 
And all the air a solemn stillness holds, 
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, 
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds: 

Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower 
10 The moping owl does to the moon complain 
Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, 
Molest her ancient solitary reign. 

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade 
Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, 
15 Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, 
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 

The breezy call of incense-breathing mom. 
The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, 
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, 
20 No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. 

For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn 
Or busy house^\^fe ply her evening care: 
No children run to lisp their sire's return. 
Or climb his knees the en\'ied kiss to share. 

25 Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, 

Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; 
How jocund did they drive their team afield! 
How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke! 

Let not ambition mock their useful toil, 
30 Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; 
Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile 
The short and simple annals of the poor. 



clxxxvii] Book Third 223 

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, 
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave 
Awaits ahke th' inevitable hour: — 
The paths of glory lead but to the grave. 

5 Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault 
If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise. 
Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault 
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. 

Can storied urn or animated bust 
10 Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? 
Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust, 
Or flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death? 

Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid 
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire; 
15 Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway'd, 
Or waked to extasy the Hving lyre:" 

But knowledge to their eyes her ample page 
Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll; 
Chill penury repress' d their noble rage, 
20 And froze the genial current of the soul. 

Full many a gem of purest ray serene 
The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear: 
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
And waste its sweetness on the desert air. 

25 Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast 
The httle tyrant of his fields withstood, 
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, 
Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood. 

Th' applause of listening senates to command, 
30 The threats of pain and ruin to despise. 
To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, 
And read their history in a nation's eyes 

Their lot forbad: nor circumscribed alone 
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined; 
35 Forbad to wade thro' slaughter to a throne, 
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind; 



224 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clxxxvii 

The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, 
To quench the bkishes of ingenuous shame, 
Or heap the shrine of luxury and pride 
With incense kindled at the Muse's flame. 

5 Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife 
Their sober wishes newer learn'd to stray; 
Along the cool sequeGter'd vale of life 
They kept the noiseless tenour of their way. 

Yet e'en these bones from insult to protect 
10 Some frail memorial still erected nigh, 

With uncouth rhyines and shapeless sculpture deck'd 
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. 

Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd Muse, 
The place of fame and elegy supply: 
15 And many a holy text around she strews, 
That teach the rustic moralist to die. 

For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, 
This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd, 
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, 
20 Nor cast one longing hngering look beliind? 

On some fond breast the parting soul relies. 
Some pious drops the closing eye requires; 
E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, 
E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. 

25 For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead. 
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate; 
If chance, by lonely contemplation led, 
Some kindred spirit shall enquire thy fate, — • 

Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, 
30 *Oft have we seen him at the 3eep of dawn 
Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, 
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn; 

'There at the foot of yonder nodding beech 
That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, 
36 His listless length at noon-tide would he stretch. 
And pore upon the brook that babbles by. 



cTxxxviii] Book Third '225 

'Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, 
Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove; 
Now drooping, woeful-wan, like one forlorn, 
Or crazed with care, or cross'd in hopeless love. 

5 'One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill, 
Along the heath, and near his favourite tree; 
Another came; nor yet beside the rill, 
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; 

'The next with dirges due in sad array 
10 Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne, — 
Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay 
Graved on tlie stone beneath yon aged thorn.' 

THE EPITAPH 

Here rests his head upon the lap of earth 
A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown; 
15 Fair science frown' d not on his humble birth 
And melancholy mark'd him for her own. 

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere; 
Heaven did a recompense as largely send: 
He gave to misery (all he had) a tear, 
20 He gain'd from Heaven ('twas all he wish'd) a friend 

No farther seek his merits to disclose, 
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, 
(There they alike in trembling hope repose,) 
The bosom of his Father and his God. 

T. Gray 

CLXXXVIII 

MARY MORISON 

O Mary, at thy window be. 
It is the wish'd, the trysted hour! 
Those smiles and glances let me see 
That make the miser's treasure poor: 
5 How blithely wad I bide the stoure, - 

A weary slave frae sun to sun, 
Could I the rich reward secure. 
The lovely Mary Morison. 



226 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clxxxviii 

Yestreen when to the trembHng string 
The dance gaed thro' the Hghted ha', 
To thee my fancy took its wing, — 
I sat, but neither heard nor saw: 
5 Tho' this was fair, and that was braw, 

And yon the toast of a' tlie town, 
I sigii'd, and said amang them a', 
'Ye are na Mary Morison.' 

O IMary, canst tliou wreck his peace 
10 Wha for thy sake wad gladly dee? 

Or canst thou break that heart of his, 

Whase only faut is lo\-ing thee? 

If love for love thou wilt na gie, 

At least be pity to me shown; 
15 A thought ungentle canna be 

The thought o' Mary Morison. 



R. Burns 



CLXXXIX 

BONNIE LESLEY 

O saw ye bonnie Lesley 

As she gaed o'er the border? 

She's gane, like Alexander, 

To spread her conquests farther. 

5 To see her is to love her, 

And love but her for ever; 
For Nature made her what she is, 
And ne'er made sic anither! 

Thou art a queen, Fair Lesley, 
10 Thy subjects we, before thee; 

Thou art divine, Fair Lesley, 
The hearts o' men adore thee. 

The Deil he could na scaith thee, 
Or aught that wad belang thee; 
15 He'd look into thy bonnie face. 

And say 'I canna wrang thee!' 



cxci] Book Third 227 

The Powers aboon will tent thee* 

Misfortune sha' na steer thee; 
Thou'rt like themselves sae lovely 

That ill they'll ne'er let near thee. 

6 Return again, Fair Lesley, 

Return to Caledonie! 
That we may brag we hae a lass 
There's nane again sae bonnie. 

R. Burns 



O my Luve's like a red, red rose 
That's newly sprung in June: 

my Luve's like the melodie 
That's sweetly play'd in tune. 

5 As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, 

So deep in luve am I: 
And I will luve thee still, my dear, 
Till a' the seas gang dry: 

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, 
10 And the rocks melt wi' the sun; 

1 will luve thee still, my dear, 
While the sands o' life shall run. 



16 



And fare thee weel, my only Luvel 

And fare thee weel awhile! 
And I vnW come again, my Luve, 

Tho' it were ten thousand mile. 

R. Burnt 

CXCI 

HIGHLAND MARY 

Ye banks and braes and streams around 

The castle o' Montgomery, 
Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, 

Your waters never drUmlie! 



228 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxci 

There simmer first iinfauld her robes, 

And there the langest tarry; 
For there I took the last fareweel 

O' my sweet Highland Mary. 

5 How sweetly bloom' d the gay green birk, 

How rich the hawthorn's blossom, 
As underneath their fragrant shade 

I clasp' d her to my bosom! 
The golden hours on angel wings 
10 Flew o'er me and my dearie; 

For dear to me as light and life 
Was my sweet Highland Mary. 

Wi' mony a vow and lock'd embrace 
Our parting was fu' tender; 
15 And pledging aft to meet again, 

We tore oursels asunder; 
But, Oh! fell Death's untimely frost, 

That nipt my flower sae early! 
Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay, 
20 That wraps my Highland Mary! 

O pale, pale now, those rosy lips, 

I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly! 
And closed for aye the sparkling glance 
That dwelt on me sae kindly; 
25 And mouldering now in silent dust 

That heart that lo'ed me dearly! 
But still within my bosom's core 
Shall live my Highland Mary, 

R. Burns 



AULD ROBIN GRAY 

When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye a hame, 
And a' the warld to rest are gane, 
The waes o' my heart fa' in showers frae my e'e, 
While my gudeman lies sound by me. 



cxcii] Book Third 229 

Young Jamie lo'ed me well, and sought me for his 

bride; 
But saving a croun he had naething else beside: 
To make the croun a pund, young Jamie gaed to sea; 
And the croun and the pund were baith for me. 

5 He hadna been awa' a week but only twa, 

When my father brak his arm, and the cow was 

stown awa; 
My mother she fell sick, and my Jamie at the sea — 
And auld Robin Gray came a-courtin' me. 

My father couldna work, and my mother couldna spin; 

10 I toil'd day and night, but their bread I couldna win; 

Auld Rob maintain'd them baith, and wi' tears in liis 

e'e 
Said, Jennie, for their sakes, O, marry me! 

My heart it said nay; I look'd for Jamie back; 
But the wind it blew high, and the ship it was a 
wrack; 
15 His ship it was a wrack — why didna Jamie dee? 
Gt why do I live to crj--, Wae's me? 

My father urgit sair: my mother didna speak; 

But she look'd in my face till my heart was like to 

break r 
They gi'ed him my hand, but my heart was at the sea; 
20 Sae auld Robin Gray he was gudeman to me. 

I hadna been a wife a week but only four. 
When mournfu' as I sat on the stane at the door, 
I saw my Jamie's wraith, for I couldna tliink it he 
Till he said, I'm come hame to marry thee. 

25 O sair, sail' did we greet, and muckle did we say; 
We took but ae kiss, and I bad him gang away; 
I wish that I were dead, but I'm no like to dee; 
And why was I born to say, Wae's me! 

I gang like a ghaist, and I carena to spin; 
30 I daurna think on Jamie, for that wad be a sin; 
But I'll do my best a gude wife aye to be, 
For auld Robin Gray he is kind unto me. 

Lady A. Lindsay 



230 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxciii 



CXCIII 

DUNCAN GRAY 

Duncan Gray cam here to woo, 

Ha, ha, the wooing o't; 
On blythe Yule right when we were fou, 

Ha, ha, the wooing o't: 
5 Maggie coost her head I'u' high, 

Look'd asklent and unco skeigh, 
Gart poor Du^^can stand abeigh; 

Ha, ha, the wooing o't! 

Duncan fleech'd, and Duncan pray'd; 
10 Meg was deaf as Ailsa Craig; 

Duncan sigh'd baith out and in, 
Grat his een baith bleer't and bhn' 
Spak o' lowpin ower a Hnn! 

Time and chance are but a tide, 
15 Shghted love is sair to bide; 

Shall I, like a fool, quoth he. 
For a haughty hizzie dee? 
She may gae to — France for me I 

How it com.es let doctors tell, 
20 Meg grew sick — as he grew well; 

Something in her bosom wrings. 
For relief a sigh she brings; 
And O, her een, they spak sic thingsl 

Duncan was a lad o' grace; 
25 Maggie's was a piteous case; 

Duncan couldna be her death, 
Swelling pity smoor'd his wrath; 
Now they're crouse and canty baith: 
Ha, ha. the wooing o't! 

R. Burns 



cxciv] Book Third 231 



THE SAILOR'S WIFE 

And are ye sure the news is true? 

And are ye sure he's weel? 
Is tliis a time to think o' wark? 

Ye jades, lay by your wheel; 
5 Is this the time to spin a thread, 

When Colin's at the door? 
Reach down my cloak, I'll to the quay, 

And see him come ashore. 
For there's nae luck about the house, 
10 There's nae luck at a'; 

There's little pleasure in the house 

When our gudeman's awa'. 

And gie to me my bigonet, 
My bishop's satin gOA\Ti; 
15 For I maun tell the baiUie's wife 

That Colin's in the town. 
My Turkey slippers maun gae on, 

My stockins pearly blue; 
It's a' to pleasure our gudeman, 
20 For he's baith leal and true. 

Rise, lass, and mak a clean fireside, 

Put on the muckle pot; 
Gie little Kate her button gown 

And Jock his Sunday coat; 
25 And mak their shoon as black as slaes. 

Their hose as white as snaw; 
It's a' to please my ain gudeman, 

For he's been long awa. 

There's twa fat hens upo' the coop 
30 Been fed this month and mair; 

Mak haste and thraw their necks about. 

That Colin weel may fare; 
And spread the table neat and clean, 
Gar ilka thing look braw, 
35 For wha can tell how Colin fared 

When he was far awa? 



232 Palgrave's Golden 7'reasury [cxciv 

Sae true his heart, sae smooth his speech, 

His breath Hke caller air; 
His very foot lias music in't 

As he comes up the stair — 
5 And will I see his face again? 

And will I hear him speak? 
I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought, 

In troth I'm hke to greet! 

If Colin's weel, and weel content, 
10 I hae nae mair to crave: 

And gin I live to keep him sae, 

I'm blest aboon the lave: 

And will I see his face again, 

And will I hear him speak? 

15 I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought, 

In troth I'm hke to greet. 

For there's nae luck about the house, 

There's nae luck at a'; 
There's little pleasure in the house 
20 When our gudeman's awa'. 

W. J. Mickle 



ABSENCE 

When I think on the happy days 
I spent wi' you, my dearie; 

And now what lands between us he, 
How can I be but eerie! 

How slow ye move, ye heavy hours. 
As ye were wae and weary! 

It was na sae ye glinted by 
When I was wi' my dearie. 

Anon. 



cxcvi] Book Third 233 



cxcvi 
JEAN 

Of a' the airts the wind can blaw 

I dearly Hke the West, 
For there the bonnie lassie hves, 

The lassie I lo'e best: 
5 There wild woods grow, and rivers row. 

And mony a hill between; 
But day and night my fancy's flight 

Is ever wi' my Jean. 

I see her in the dewy flowers, 
10 I see her sweet and fair: 

I hear her in the tunefu' birds, 

I hear her charm the air: 
There's not a bonnie flower that springs 
By fountain, shaw, or green, 
15 There's not a bonnie bird that sings 

But minds me o' my Jean. 

O blaw ye westlin winds, blaw saft 

Amang the leafy trees; 
Wi' balmy gale, frae hill and dale 
20 Bring hame the laden bees; 

And bring the lassie back to me 

That's aye sae neat and clean; 
Ae smile o' her wad banish care, 

Sae charming is my Jean. ( 

25 What sighs and vows amang the knowes 

Hae pass'd atween us twa! 
How fond to meet, how wae to part 

That night she gaed awa! 
The Powers aboon can only ken 
30 To whom the heart is seen, 

That nane can be sae dear to me 
As my sweet lovely Jean! 

R. Burns 



234 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxcvit 



JOHN ANDERSON 

John Anderson my jo, John, 
When we were first acquent 
Your locks were hke the raven, 
Your bonnie brow was brent; 
5 But now your brow is bald, John, 

Your locks are like the snow; 
But blessings on your frosty pow, 
John Anderson my jo. 

John Anderson my jo, John, 
JO We clamb the hill thegither, 

And mony a canty day, John, 
We've had wi' ane anither: 
Now we maun totter down, John, 
But hand in hand we'll go, 
15 And sleep thegither at the foot, 

John Anderson my jo. 

R. Burns 



THE LAND O' THE LEAL 

I'm wearing awa', Jean, 

Like snaw when its thaw, Jean, 

I'm wearing awa' 

To the land o' the leal. 
5 There's nae sorrow there, Jean, 

There's neither cauld nor care, Jean. 
The day is aye fair 

In the land o' the leal. 

Ye were aye leal and true, Jean, 
10 Your task's ended noo, Jean, 

And I'll welcome you 
To the land o' the leal, 



cxcix] Book Third 235 

Our bonnie baini's there, Jean, 
She was baith gude and fair, Jean; 
O we grudged her right sair 
To the land o' the leal! 

S Then dry that tearfu' e'e, Jean, 

My soul langs to be free, Jean, 
And angels wait on me 

To the land o' the leal. 
Now fare ye weel, my ain Jean, 
10 This warld's care is vain, Jean; 

We'll meet and aye be fain 
In the land o' the leal. 

Lady Nairn 



ODE ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF 
ETON COLLEGE 

Ye distant spires, ye antique towers 

That crown the watery glade, 
Where grateful Science still adores 

Her Henry's holy shade; 
5 And ye, that from the stately brow 

Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below 
Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey. 
Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among 
Wanders the hoary Thames along 
10 His silver- winding way: 

Ah happy hills! ah pleasing shade! c 

Ah fields beloved in vain! 
Where once my careless childhood stray'd, 
A stranger yet to pain! 

15 I feel the gales that from ye blow 
A momentary bliss bestow, 
As waving fresh their gladsome -wing 
My weary soul they seem to soothe, 
And, redolent of joy and youth. 

20 To breathe a second spring. 



236 Palgrave's Golden Treaswij [cxci;f 

Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen 

Full many a sprightly race 
Disporting on thy margent green 
The paths of pleasure trace; 
6 Who foremost now delight to cleave 

With pliant arm, thy glassy wave? 
The captive linnet which enthral? 
What idle progeny succeed 
To chase the rolling circle's speed 
10 Or urge the flying ball? 

While some on earnest business bent 

Their murmuring labours ply 
'Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint 
To sweeten liberty: 

15 Some bold adventurers disdain 

The limits of their little reign 
And unknown regions dare descry: 
Still as they run they look beliind, 
They hear a voice in every wind, 

20 And snatch a fearful joy. 

Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed, 
Less pleasing when possest; 

The tear forgot as soon as shed, 
The sunshine of the breast: 
26 Theirs buxom health, of rosy hue, 

Wild wit, invention ever new, 

And lively cheer, of vigour born; 

The thoughtless day, the easy night, 

The spirits pure, the slumbers Hght 
30 That fly th' approach of mom. 

Alas! regardless of their doom 

The little \'ictims play; 
No sense have they of ills to come 
Nor care beyond to-day: 

35 Yet see how all around 'em wait 

The ministers of human fate 
And black Misfortune's baleful train! 
Ah show them where in ambush stand 
To seize their prey, the murderous band.' 

40 Ah, tell them they are men! 



cxcix] Book Third 237 

These shall the fury Passions tear, 

The vultures of the mind, 
Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear, 

And Shame that sculks behind; 
5 Or pining Love shall waste their youth. 

Or Jealousy with rankling tooth 
That inly gnaws the secret heart. 
And Envy wan, and faded Care, 
Grim-visaged comfortless Despair, 
10 And Sorrow's piercing dart. 

Ambition tliis shall tempt to rise. 

Then whirl the wretch from liigh 
To bitter Scorn a sacrifice 
And grinning Infamy. 

15 The stings of Falsehood those shall try 

And hard Unkindness' alter'd eye, 
That mocks the tear it forced to flow; 
And keen Remorse with blood defiled, 
And moody Madness laughing yd\d. 

20 Amid severest woe. 

Lo, in the vale of years beneath 
A griesly troop are seen, 

The painful family of Death, 
More hideous than their queen: 
25 This racks the joints, this fires the veins, 

That every labouring sinew strains. 

Those in the deeper vitals rage: 

Fo! Poverty, to fill the band, 

That numbs the soul with icy hand, 
30 And slow-consuming Age. 

To each his sufferings: all are men, 

Condem.n'd alike to groan; 
The tender for another's pain, 

Th' unfeeling for his own. 
35 Yet, ah! why should they know their fate, 

Since sorrow never comes too late, 
And happiness too swiftly fiies? 
Thovight would destroy their paradise. 
No more; — where ignorance is bliss, 
40 'Tig folly to be wise. T. Gray 



238 Palgrave's Golden Treasury fee 



THE SHRUBBERY 

O happy shades! to me unblest! 

Friendly to peace, but not to me I 
How ill the scene that offers rest, 

And heart that cannot rest, agree I 
6 This glassy stream, that spreading pine, 

Those alders quivering to the breeze, 
Might soothe a soul less hurt than mine, 

And please, if anything could please. 
But fix'd unalterable Care 
10 Foregoes not what she feels within. 

Shows the same sadness everywhere, 

And slights the season and the scene. 
For all that pleased in wood or lawn 

While Peace possessed these silent bowe»» 
15 Her animating smile withdrawn. 

Has lost its beauties and its powers. 
The saint or moralist should tread 

This moss-grown alley, musing, slow, 
They seek like me the secret shade, 
20 ■ But not, Hke me, to nourish woe! 

Me, fruitful scenes and prospects waste 

Alfke admonish not to roam; 
These tell me of enjoyments past, 

And those of sorrows yet to come. 

W. Cowper 

cci 

HYMN TO ADVERSITY 

Daughter of Jove, relentless power, 
Thou tamer of the human breast, 
Whose iron scourge and torturing hour 
The bad affright, afflict the best! 
6 Bound in thy adamantine chain 

The proud are taught to taste of pain, 
And purple tyrants vainly groan 
With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and aloaa 



cci] Book Third 239 

When first thy Sire tc send on earth 
Virtue, his darhng child, design'd, 
To thee he gave the heavenly birth 
And bade to form her infant mind. 
6 Stern, ragged nurse! thy rigid lore 
With patience many a year she bore; 
What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know, 
And from her own she learn'd to melt at others' w^oe 
Scared at thy frown terrific, fly, 
10 Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood. 

Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy, 

And leave us leisure to be good. 
Light they disperse, and with them go 
The summer friend, the flattering foe; 
15 By vain Prosperity received, 

To her they vow their truth, and are again believed. 
Wisdom in sable garb array'd 

Immersed in rapturous thought profound, 
And Melancholy, silent maid, 
20 With leaden eye, that loves the ground, 

Still on thy solemn steps attend: 
Warm Charity, the general friend. 
With Justice, to herself severe, 
And Pity dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear. 
25 Oh! gently on thy suppliant's head 

Dread goddess, lay thy chastening hand' 
Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad, 

Nor circled with the vengeful band 
(As by the impious thou art seen) 
30 With thundering voice, and threatening mien, 
With screaming Horror's funeral cry. 
Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty; — 
Thy form benign, oh goddess, wear, 
Thy milder influence impart, 
35 Thy philosophic train be there 

To soften, not to wound my heart. 
The generous spark extinct revive. 
Teach me to love and to forgive. 
Exact my own defects to scan, 
40 What others are to feel, and know myself a Man. 

T. Gray 



240 Palgraves Golden Treasury [ccii 



ecu 

THE SOLITUDE OF 
ALEXANDER SELKIRK 

I am monarch of all I survey; 
My right there is none to dispute; 
From the centre all round to the sea 
I am lord of the fowl and the brute. 
5 O Solitude! where are the charms 

That sages have seen in thy face? 
Better dwell in the midst of alarms. 
Than reign in this horrible place. 

I am out of humanity's reach, 
10 I must finish my journey alone, 

Never hear the sweet music of speech; 

I start at the sound of my own. 

The beasts that roam over the plain 

My form with indifference see; 
15 They are so unacquainted with man, 

Their tameness is shocking to me. 

Society, Friendship, and Love 
Divinely bestow'd upon man. 
Oh, had I the wings of a dove 
20 How soon would I taste you again! 

My sorrow^s I then might assuage 
In the w^ays of religion and truth, 
Might learn from the wisdom of age, 
And be cheer'd by the salhes of youth. 

25 Ye winds that have made me your sport, 

Convey to this desolate shore 
Some cordial endearing report 
Of a land I shall visit no more: 
My friends, do they now and then send 

80 A wish or a thought after me? 

O tell me I yet have a friend. 
Though a friend I am never to see. 



cciii] Book Third 241 

How fleet is a glance of the mind! 
Compared with the speed of its flight, 
The tempest itself lags behind, 
And the swift-w^ng6d arrows of light. 
5 When I think of my own native land 

In a moment I seem to be there; 
But alas! recollection at hand 
Soon hurries me back to despair. 

But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest, 
10 The beast is laid do\\'n in his lair; 

Even here is a season of rest, 

And I to my cabin repair. 

There's mercy in every place, 

And mercy, encouraging thought! 
15 Gives even affliction a grace 

And reconciles man to his lot. 

W. Cowper 



CCIII 

TO MARY UNWIN 

Mary! T want a lyre with other strings. 

Such aid from Heaven as some have feign'd they 

drew. 
An eloquence scarce given to mortals, new 
And undebased by praise of meaner things, 
5 That ere through age or woe I shed my wings 
I may record thy worth with honour due, 
In verse as musical as thou art true, 
And that immortalizes whom it sings: — 
But thou hast Httle need. There is a Book 
10 By seraphs writ with beams of heavenly light, 
On which the eyes of God not rarely look, 
A chronicle of actions just and bright- 
There all thy deeds, my faithful Mary, shine; 
And since thou own'st that praise, I spare thee mine. 

W. Cowper 



242 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cciv 



cciv 

TO THE SAME 

The twentieth year is well-nigh past 
Since first our sky was overcast; 
Ah would that this might be the last I 
My Mary! 

5 Thy spirits have a fainter flow, 

I see thee daily weaker grow — 
'Twas my distress that brought thee low, 
My Mary! 

Thy needles, once a shining store, 
10 For my sake restless heretofore, 

Now rust disused, and shine no more; 
My Mary! 

For though thou gladly wouldst fulfil 
The same kind office for me still, 
15 Thy sight now seconds not thy will, 

My Mary! 

But well thou play'dst the housewife's' part, 
And all thy threads with magic art 
Have wound themselves about this heart, 
20 My Mary! 

Thy indistinct expressions seem 
Like language utter' d in a dream; 
Yet me they charm, whate'er the theme, 
My Mary! 

25 Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, 

Are still more lovely in my sight 
Than golden beams of orient light, 
My Mary! 

For could I view nor them nor thee, 
30 What sight worth seeing could I see? 

The sun would rise in vain for me, 
My Mary! 



ccv] Book Third 243 

Partakers of thy sad decline 
Thy hands their little force resign; 
Yet, gently prest, press gently mine. 
My Mary! 

5 Such feebleness of limbs thou prov'st 

That now at every step thou mov'st 
Upheld by two; yet still thou lov'st, 
My Mary! 

And still to love, though prest with ill, 
10 In wintry age to feel no chill, 

With me is to be lovely still, 
My Mary! 

But ah! by constant heed I know 
How oft the sadness that I show 
15 Transforms thy smiles to looks of woe. 

My Mary! 

And should my future lot be cast 
With much resemblance of the past, 
Thy worn-out heart will break at last — 
20 My Mary! 

W. Cowper 



THE CASTAWAY 

Obscurest night involved the sky, 
The Atlantic billows roar'd, 

When such a destined wretch as I, 
Wash'd headlong from on board, 
5 Of friends, of hope, of all bereft, 

His floating home for ever left. 

No braver chief could Albion boast 

Than he with whom he went, 
Nor ever ship left Albion's coast 
10 With warmer wishes sent. 

He loved them both, but both in vain, 
Nor liim beheld, nor her again. 



244 Palgrave's Golden Treasury fccv 

Not long beneath the whelming brine, 

Expert to swim, he lay; 
Nor soon he felt his strength decline; 
Or courage die away; 
5 But waged with death a lasting strife, 

Supported by despair of hfe. 

He shouted: nor his friends had fail'd 

To check the vessel's course, 
But so, the furious blast prevail'd, 
10 That, pitiless perforce, 

They left their outcast mate behind. 
And scudded still before the wind. 

Some succour yet they could afford; 

And such as storms allow, 
15 The cask, the coop, the floated cord, 

Delay'd not to bestow. 
But he (they knew) nor ship nor shore ^ 
Whate'er they gave, should visit more. 

Nor, cruel as it seem'd, could he 
20 Their haste himself condemn, 

Aware that flight, in such a sea. 

Alone could rescue them; 
Yet bitter felt it still to die 
Deserted, and his friends so nigh. 

25 He long survives, who lives an hour 

In ocean, self-upheld; 
And so long he, with unspent power, 

His destiny repell'd; 
And ever, as the minutes flew, 
30 Entreated help, or cried 'Adieu!' 

At length, his transient respite past, 

His comrades, who before 
Had heard his voice in every blast. 

Could catch the sound no more; 
35 For then, by toil subdued, he drank 

The stifling wave, and then he sank. 



ec\a] Book Third 245 

No poet wept him; but the page 

Of narrative sincere, 
That tells his name, his worth, his age, 
Is wet with Anson's tear: 
5 And tears by bards or heroes shed 

Alike immortahze the dead. 
I therefore purpose not, or dream, 

Descanting on his fate, 
To give the melancholy theme 
10 A more enduring date: 

But misery still delights to trace 
Its semblance in another's case. 
No voice divine the storm allay'd, 
No light propitious shone, 
15 When, snatch' d from all effectual aid, 

We perish'd, each alone: 
But I beneath a rougher sea. 
And whelm'd in deeper gulfs than he. 

W. Cowp&r 

ccvi 
TOMORROW 

In the dowTihill of life, when I find I'm decHning, 

May my fate no less fortunate be 
Than a snug elbow-chair will afford for reclining, 

And a cot that o'erlooks the wide sea; 
5 With an ambling pad-pony to pace o'er the lawn, 

While I carol away idle sorrow, 
And blithe as the lark that each day hails the dawn 

Look forward with hope for Tomorrow. 

With a porch at my door, both for shelter and shade 
too, 
10 As the sunshine or rain may prevail; 

And a small spot of ground for the use of the spade 
too, 
With a barn for the use of the flail: 
A cow for my dairy, a dog for my game, 

And a purse when a friend wants to borrow; 
15 I'll envy no Nabob his riches or fame, 

Or what honours may wait him Tomorrow. 



246 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccvi 

From the bleak northern blast may my cot be com- 
pletely 
Secured by a neighboring hill; 
And at night may repose steal upon me more sweetly 
By the sound of a murmuring rill: 
5 And wliile peace and plenty I find at my board, 
With a heart free from sickness and sorrow, 
With my friends may I share what Today may afford, 
And let them spread the table Tomorrow. 

And when I at last must throw off this frail cov'ring 
10 Which I've worn for three score years and ten, 
On the brink of the grave I'll not seek to keep hov'r- 
ing. 
Nor my thread wish to spin o'er again: 
But my face in the glass I'll serenely survey, 
And with smiles count each wrinkle and furrow; 
15 As this old worn-out stuff, which is threadbare Today, 
May become Everlasting Tomorrow. 

J. Colli? Ls 



Life! I know not what thou art, 
But know that thou and I must part; 
And when, or how, or where, we met 
I own to me's a secret yet. 

5 Life! we've been long together 

Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; 
'Tis hard to part when friends are dear — 
Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear; 
— Then steal away, give little warning, 
10 Choose thine own time; 

Say not Gk)od Night, — but in some brighter cHme 
Bid me Good Morning. 

A. L. Barhauld 



15ocfe Somtb 



CCVIII 

TO THE MUSES 

Whether on Ida's shady brow, 
Or in the chambers of the East, 

The chambers of the sun, that now 
From ancient melody have ceased; 

5 Whether in Heaven ye wander fair, 

Or the green corners of the earth, 
Or the bhie regions of the air. 

Where the melodious v^inds have birth; 

Whether on crystal rocks ye rove 
10 Beneath the bosom of the sea, 

Wandering in many a coral grove, — 

Fair Nine, forsaking Poetry; 
How' have you left the ancient love 
That bards of old enjoy'd in you! 
15 The languid strings do scarcely move, 

The sound is forced, the notes are few. 

TT^ Blake 

CCIX 

ODE ON THE POETS 

Bards of Passion and of Mirth 
Ye have left your souls on earth! 
Have ye souls in heaven too, 
Double-hved in regions new? 
247 



248 Palgrave^s Golden Treasury [c&\ 

— Yes, and those of heaven commune 

With the spheres of sun and moon; 

With the noise of fountains wond'rous 

And the parle of voices thund'rous; 
5 With the whisper of heaven's trees 

And one another, in soft ease 

Seated on Elysian la\Mis 

Browsed by none but Dian's fawns; 

Underneath large blue-bells tented, 
10 Where the daisies are rose-scented. 

And the rose herself has got 

Perfume wliich on earth is not; 

Where the nightingale doth sing 

Not a senseless, tranced thing, 
15 But divine melodious truth; 

Philosophic numbers smooth; 

Tales and golden histories 

Of heaven and its mysteries. 

Thus ye live on high, and then 
20 On the earth ye live again; 

And the souls ye left behind you 

Teach us, here, the way to find jon, 

Where your other souls are joying. 

Never slumber' d, never cloying. 
25 Here, your earth-bom souls still speak 

To mortals, of their little week; 

Of their sorrows and delights; 

Of their passions and their spites; 

Of their glory and their shame; 
30 What doth strengthen and what maim: — 

Thus ye teach us. every day, 

Wisdom, though fled far away. 

Bards of Passion and of Mirth 
Ye have left your souls on earth! 
35 Ye have souls in heaven too, 

Double-lived in regions new! 

J. Keats 



ccxi] Book Fourth 249 



ccx 

ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S 
HOMER 

Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold 
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen; 
Round many western islands have I been 
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. 

5 Oft of one wide expanse had I been told 

That deep-brow' d Homer ruled as his demesne: 
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene 
Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: 
— Then felt I like some watcher of the skies 

10 When a new planet s\^'ims into his ken; 
Or like stout Cortez, when with eagle eyes 
He stared at the Pacific— and all his men 
Look'd at each other with a wild surmise — 
Silent, upon a peak in Darien. 

J Keats 



LOVE 

All thoughts, all passions, all delights, 
Whatever stirs this mortal frame, 
All are but ministers of Love, 
And feed liis sacred flame. 

5 Oft in my waking dreams do I 

Live o'er again that happy hour, 
When midway on the m.ount I lay. 
Beside the ruin'd tower. 

The moonshine stealing o'er the scene 
10 Had blended with the lights of eve; 

And she was there, my hope, my joy. 
My own dear Genevieve! 



250 Falgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxi 

She lean'd against the armed man, 
The statue of the armed knight; 
She stood and hsten'd to my lay, 
Amid the Hngering hght. 

5 Few sorrows hath she of her o\mi, 

My hope! my joy! my Genevieve! 
She loves me best, whene'er I sing 
The songs that make her grieve. 

I play'd a soft and doleful air, 
10 I sang an old and moving -story — 

An old rude song, that suited well 
That ruin wild and hoary. 

She listen'd with a flitting blush, 
With downcast eyes and modest grace; 
15 For well she knew, I could not choose 

But gaze upon her face. 

I told her of the Knight that wore 
Upon his shield a burning brand; 
And that for ten long years he woo'd 
20 The Lady of the Land. 

I told her how he pined: and ah! 
The deep, the low, the pleading tone 
With which I sang another's love 
Interpreted my own. 

25 She hsten'd with a flitting blush, 

With downcast eyes, and modest grace; 
And she forgave me, that I gazed 
Too fondly on her face! 

But when I told the cruel scorn 
30 That crazed that bold and lovely Knight, 

And that he cross' d the mountain- woods, 
Nor rested day nor night; 

That sometimes from the savage den, 
And sometimes from the darksome shade, 
35 And sometimes starting up at once 

In green and sunny glade, — • 



ccxi] Book Fourth 251 

There came and look'd him in the face 
An angel beautiful and bright; 
And that he knew it was a Fiend. 
This miserable Knight! 

5 And that unknowang what he did, 

He leap'd amid a murderous band, 
And saved from outrage worse than death 
The Lady of the Land; — 

And how she wept, and clasp'd his knees; 
10 And how she tended him in vain — 

And ever strove to expiate 

The scorn that crazed his brain; — 

And that she nursed him in a cave, 
And how liis madness went away, 
15 When on the yellow forest-leaves 

A dying man he lay; — 

His dying words — but when I reach'd 
That tenderest strain of all the ditty, 
My faltering voice and pausing harp 
20 Disturb' d her soul with pity! 

All impulses of soul and sense 
Had thrill' d my guileless Genevieve; 
The music and the doleful tale, 
The rich and balmy eve; 

25 And hopes, and fears that kindle hope, 

An undistinguishable throng, 
And gentle wishes long subdued. 
Subdued and cherish' d long! 

She wept with pity and delight, 
30 She blush'd with love, and virgin shame; 

And like the murmur of a dream, 
I heard her breathe my name. 

Her bosom heaved — she stepp'd aside, 
As conscious of my look she stept — 
36 Then suddenly, with timorous eye 

She fled to me and wept. 



252 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxi 

She half inclosed me with her amis, 
She press' d nie with a meek embrace; 
And bending back her head, look'd up, 
And gazed upon my face. 

5 'Twas partly love, and partly fear, 

And partly 'twas a bashful art 
That I might rather feel, than see, 
The swelling of her heart. 

I calm'd her fears, and she was calm, 
10 And told her love with virgin pride; 

And so I won my Genevieve, 

My bright and beauteous Bride. 

S. T. Coleridge 

CCXII 

ALL FOR LOVE 

O talk not to me of a name great in story; 
The days of our youth are the days of our glory; 
And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two-and-twenty 
Are worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty. 

5 What are garlands and crowTis to the brow that is 

wrinkled ? 

'Tis but as a dead flower with May-dew besprinkled: 

Then away with all such from the head that is hoary — • 

What care I for the wreaths that can only give glory? 

Fame! — if I e'er took delight in thy praises, 

10 'Twas less for the sake of thy high-sounding phrases, 
Than to see the bright eyes of the dear one discover 
She thought that I was not unworthy to love her. 

There chiefly I sought thee, there only I found thee; 
Her glance was the best of the rays that surround thee; 
15 When it sparkled o'er aught that was bright in my 
story, 

1 knew it was love, and I felt it was glory. 

Lord Byron 



ccxiii] Book Fourth 253 

CCXIII 

THE OUTLAW 

Brignall banks are wild and fair, 
And Greta woods are green, 

And you may gather garlands there 

Would grace a summer-queen. 
5 And as I rode by Dalton-Hall 

Beneath the turrets high, 
A Maiden on the castle-wall 

Was singing merrily: 
*0 Brignall banks are fresh and fair, 
10 And Greta woods are green; 

I'd rather rcve with Edmund there 

Than reign our Enghsh queen.' 

*If, Maiden, thou wou^dst wend with me. 
To leave both tower and toA\Ti, 
16 Thou first mast suess what life lead we 

That dwell 'oy dale and down. 
And h thou canst that riddle read, 

As read luU well you may, 
Then to the greenwood shalt thou speed 
20 As blithe as Queen of May.' 

Yet sung she, 'Brignall banks are fair, 

And Greta woods are green; 
I'd rather rove with Edmund there 
Than reign our English queen. 

25 *I read you, by your bugle-horn 

And by your palfrey good, 

1 read you for a ranger sworn 
To keep the king's greenwood.' 

'A Ranger, lady, winds his horn, 
30 And 'tis at peep of hght; 

His blast is heard at merry morn, 

And mine at dead of night.' 
Yet sung she, 'Brignall banks are lair. 
And Greta woods are gay; 
35 I would I were with Edmund there 

To reign his Queen of May! 



254 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxiii 

'With burnish'd brand and musketoon 
• So gallantly you come, 
I read you for a bold Dragoon 

That lists the tuck of drum.' 
5 * I list no more the tuck of drum, 

No more the trumpet hear; 
But when the beetle sounds his hum 

My comrades take the spear. 
And O! though Brignall banks be fair 
10 And Greta woods be gay, 

Yet mickle must the maiden dare 

Would reign my Queen of Mayl 

'Maiden! a nameless life I lead, 
A nameless death I'll die; 
15 The fiend whose lantern lights the mead 

Were better mate than I! 
And when I'm with my comrades met 

Beneath the greenwood bough, — 
What once we were we all forget, 
20 Nor tliink what we are now.' 



Chorus 

'Yet Brignall banks are fresh and fair, 

And Greta woods are green. 
And you may gather garlands there 

Would grace a summer-queen.' 

Sir W. Scott 



There be none of Beauty's daughters 

With a magic like Thee; 
And like music on the waters 

Is thy sweet voice to me: 
When, as if its sounds were causing 
The charmed ocean's pausing. 
The waves lie still and gleaming. 
And the lull'd winds seem dreaming- 



ccxv] Book Fourth 25^ 

And the midnight moon is weaving 

Ker bright chain o'er the deep, 
Whose breast is gently heaving 
As an infant's asleep: 
5 So the spirit bows before thee 

To listen and adore thee; 
With a full but soft emotion, 
Like the swell of Summer's ocean. 

Lord Byron 



ccxv 

THE INDIAN SERENADE 

I arise from dreams of Thee 
In the first sweet sleep of night 
When the winds are breathing low 
And the stars are sliining bright: 
5 I arise from dreams of thee> 

And a spirit in my feet 
Hath led me — who knows how? 
To thy chamber- window, Sweet! 

The wandering airs they faint 
10 On the dark, the silent stream — 

The champak odours fail 

Like sweet thoughts in a dream; 

The nightingale's complaint 

It dies upon her heart, 
15 As I must che on thine 

beloved as thou art! 

Oh lift me from the grass! 

1 die, I faint, I fail! 

Let thy love in kisses rain 
20 On my lips and eyelids pale. 

My cheek is cold and white, alasl 
My heart beats loud and fast; 
Oh! press it close to thine again 
Where it will break at last. 

P. B. Shelleii 



JJ56 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccx"vl 

ccxvi 

She walks in beauty, like the night 
Of cloudless climes and starry skies, 
And all that's best of dark and bright 
Meet in her aspect and her eyes; 
5 Thus mellow' d to that tender hght 

Wliich heaven to gaudy day denies. 

One shade the more, one ray the less, 
Had half impair'd the nameless grace 
Which waves in every raven tress 
10 Or softly lightens o'er her face. 

Where thoughts serenely sweet express 
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. 

And on that cheek and o'er that brow 
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, 
15 The smiles that win, the tints that glow 

But tell of days in goodness spent, — 
A mind at peace with all below, 
A heart whose love is innocent. 

Lord Byron 

CCXVII 

She was a Phantom of delight 
When first she gleam' d upon my sight; 
A lovely Apparition, sent 

To be a moment's ornament; , 

5 Her eyes as stars of twihght fair; 

Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; 
But all things else about her drawn 
From May-time and the cheerful dawn; 
A dancing shape, an image gay, 
10 To haunt, to startle, and waylay. 

I saw her upon nearer view, 

A Spirit, yet a Woman too! 

Her household motions light and free, 

And steps of virgin-hberty; 



ccxviii] Book Fourth 257 

A countenance in which did meet 
Sweet records, promises as sweet; 
A creature not too bright or good 
For human nature's daily food, 
5 For transient sorrows, simple wiles, 

Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. 

And now I see with eye serene 

The very pulse of the machine; 

A being breathing thoughtful breath, 
10 A traveller between life and death: 

The reason firm, the temperate will, 

Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill; 

A perfect Woman, nobly plann'd 

To warn, to comfort, and command; 
15 And yet a Spirit still, and bright 

With sometliing of an angel-light. 

W. Wordsworth 



CCXVIII 

She is not fair to outward view 

As many maidens be; 
Her loveliness I never knew 

Until she smiled on me. 
5 O then I saw her eye was bright, 

A well of love, a spring of light. 

But now her looks are coy and cold. 

To mine they ne'er reply. 
And yet I cease not to behold 
10 The love-light in her eye: 

Her very frowns are fairer far 
Than smiles of other maidens are. 

H. Coleridge 



258 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxix 



I fear thy kisses, gentle maiden; 
Thou needest not fear mine; 
My spirit is too deeply laden 
Ever to burthen thine. 

5 I fear thy mien, thy tones, thy motion; 

Thou needest not fear mine; 
Innocent is the heart's devotion 
With which I worship thine. 

P. B. Shelley 



ccxx 

She dwelt among the untrodden ways 
Beside the springs of Dove; 

A maid whom there were none to praise. 
And very few to love. 

5 A violet by a mossy stone 

Half-hidden from the eye! 
— Fair as a star, when only one 
Is shining in the sky. 

She lived unknown, and few could know 
10 When Lucy ceased to be; 

But she is in her grave, and, oh. 
The difference to me! 

W. Wordsworth 



ccxxi 

I travell'd among unknown men 
In lands beyond the sea; 

Nor, England! did I know till then 
What love I bore to thee. 



ccxxii] Book Fourth 259 

'Tis past, that melancholy dream! 

Nor will I quit thy shore 
A second time; for still I seem 

To love thee more and more. 

5 Among thy mountains did I feel 

The joy of my desire; 
And she I cherish' d turn'd her wheel 
Beside an English fire. 

Thy mornings show'd, thy nights conceal'd 
10 The bowers where Lucy play'd; 

And thine too is the last green field 
That Lucy's eyes survey' d. 

W. Wordsworth 



CCXXII 

THE EDUCATION OF NATURE 

Three years she grew in sun and shower; 
Then Nature said, 'A lovelier flower 
On earth was never sown: 
This Child I to myself will take; 
5 She shall be mine, and I will make 

A lady of my own. 

'Myself will to my darling be 
Both law and impulse: and with me 
The girl, in rock and plain, 
10 In earth and heaven, in glade and bower. 

Shall feel an overseeing power 
To kindle or restrain. 

'She shall be sportive as the fawn 
That wild with glee across the lawn 
15 Or up the mountain springs; 

And her's shall be the breathing baln\ 
And her's the silence and the calm 
Of mute insensate things. 



260 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxxii 

'The floating clouds their state shall lend 
To her; for her the willow bend; 
Nor shall she fail to see 
Ev'n in the motions of the storm 
5 Grace that shall mould the maiden's form 

By silent sympathy. 

'The stars of midnight shall be dear 
To her; and she shall lean her ear 
In many a secret place 
10 Where rivulets dance their wayward round, 

And beauty born of murmuring sound 
Shall pass into her face. 

'And vital feelings of delight 
Shall rear her form to stately height, 
15 * Her virgin bosom swell; 

Such thoughts to Lucy I will give 
While she and I together live 
Here in this happy dell.' 

Thus Nature spake — The work was done — 
20 How soon my Lucy's race was run! 

She died, and left to me 
This heath, this calm and quiet scene; 
The memory of what has been. 
And never more will be. 

W. Wordsworth 



A slumber did my spirit seal; 

I had no human fears: 
She seem'd a thing that could not feel 

The touch of earthly years. 

No motion has she now, no force; 

She neither hears nor sees; 
Roll'd round in earth's diurnal course 

With rocks, and stones, and trees. 
W. Wordsworth 



ccxxv] Book Fourth 261 

ccxxiv 
A LOST LOVE ^ 

I meet thy pensive, xnoonlight face; 

Thy thriUing voice I hear; 
And former hours and scenes retrace, 

Too fleeting, and too dear! 

5 Then sighs and tears ,flow fast and free, 
Though none is nigh to share; 
And hfe has nought beside for me 
So sweet as this despair. 

There are crush'd hearts that will not break; 
10 And mine, methinks, is one; 

Or thus I should not weep and wake, 
And thou to slumber gone. 

I little thought it thus could be 
In days more sad and fair — 
15 That earth could have a place for me, 
And thou no longer there. 

Yet death cannot our hearts divide, 

Or make thee less my own: 
'Twere sweeter sleeping at thy side 
20 Than watching here alone. 

Yet never, never can we part. 

While Memory holds her reign: 
Thine, thine is still this wither'd heart, 

Till we shall meet again. 

H. F. Lyte 

ccxxv 

LORD VLLIN'S DAUGHTER 

A Chieftain to the Highlands bound 
Cries 'Boatman, do not tarry! 
And I'll give thee a silver pound 
To row us o'er the ferrv!' 



262 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxxv 

'Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle, 
This dark and stormy water?' 
*0 I'm the chief of Ulva's isle, 
And this, Lord UUin's daughter. 

5 'And fast before her father's men 

Three days we've fled together, 
For should he find us in the glen, 
My blood would stain the heather. 

'His horsemen hard behind us ride — 
10 Should they our steps discover. 

Then who will cheer my bonny bride, 
When they have slain her lover?' 

Out spoke the hardy Highland wight, 
'I'll go, my chief, I'm ready: 
15 It is not for your silver bright. 

But for your winsome lady: — 

'And by my word! the bonny bird 
In danger shall not tarry; 
So though the waves are raging white 
20 I'll row you o'er the ferry.' 

By this the storm grew loud apace, 
The water- wraith was shrieking; 
And in the scowl of Heaven each face 
Grew dark as they were speaking. 

25 But still as wilder blew the wind, 

And as the night grew drearer, 
Adown the glen rode armed men. 
Their trampling sounded nearer. 

'O haste thee, haste!' the lady cries. 
30 'Though tempests round us gather; 

I'll meet the raging of the skies, 
But not an angry father.' 

The boat has left a stormy land, 
A stormy sea before her, — 
36 When, oh! too strong for human hand 

The tempest gather' d o'er her. 



ccxxvi] Book Fourth 263 

And still they row'd amidst the roar 
Of waters fast prevailing: 
Lord Ullin reach' d that fatal shore, — 
His wrath was changed to waihng. 

5 For, sore dismay' d, through storm and shade 

His child he did discover: — 
One lovely hand she stretch' d for aid, 
And one was round her lover. 

'Come back! come back!' he cried in grief 
10 'Across this stormy water: 

And I'll forgive your Highland cliief, 
My daughter! — Oh, my daughter!' 

'Twas vain: the loud waves lash'd the shore. 
Return or aid preventing: 
18 The waters wild went o'er his child. 

And he was left lamenting. 

T. Campbell 

CCXXVI 

LUCY GRAY 

Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray: 
And when I cross' d the wild, 
I chanced to see at break of day 
The solitary child. 

5 No mate, no comrade Lucy knew; 

She dwelt on a wide moor, 
The sweetest tiling that ever grew 
Beside a human door! 

You yet may spy the fawn at play, 
10 The hare upon the green; 

But the sweet face of Lucy Gray 
Will never more be seen. 

'To-night will be a stomiy night — • 
You to the town must go; 
15 And take a lantern, Child, to light 

Your mother through the snow.' 



264 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxxvi 

'That, Father! will I gladly do: 
'Tis scarcely afternoon — 
The minster-clock has just struck two, 
And yonder is the moon!' 

5 At this the father raised his hook, 

And snapp'd a faggot-band; 
He plied his work; — and Lucy took 
The lantern in her hand. 

Not blither is the mountain roe: 
10 With many a wanton stroke 

Her feet disperse the powdery snow, 
That rises up like smoke. 

The storm came on before its time: 
She wander'd up and down; 
15 And many a hill did Lucy climb: 

But never reach' d the town. 

The wretched parents all that night 
Went shouting far and ^\ade; 
But there was neither sound nor sight 
20 To serve them for a guide. 

At day-break on a hill they stood 
That overlook 'd the moor; 
And thence they saw the bridge of wood 
A furlong from their door. 

25 They wept — and, turning homeward, cried 

In heaven we all shall meet!' 
— When in the snow the mother spied 
The print of Lucy's feet. 

Then downward from the steep hill's edge 
30 They track'd the footmarks small; 

And through the broken hawthorn hedge- 
And by the long stone wall: 

And then an open field they cross'd: 
The marks were still the same; 
35 They track'd them on, nor ever lost; 

And to the bridge they came: 



ccxxvii] Book Fourth 265 

They followed from the snowy bank 
Those footmarks, one by one, 
Into the middle of the plank; 
And further there were none! 

§ ■ — Yet some maintain that to this day 

She is a living child; 
That you may see sweet Lucy Gray 
Upon the lonesome wild. 

O'er rough and smooth she trips along, 
10 And never looks behind; 

And sings a solitary song 
That whistles in the wind. 

— W. Wordsworth, 



JOCK OF HAZELDEAN 

'Why weep ye by the tide, ladie? 

Why weep ye by the tide? 
T'U wed ye to my youngest son, 
And ye sail be his bride: 
6 And ye sail be his bride, ladie, 

Sae comely to be seen' — 
But aye she loot the tears down fa' 
For Jock of Hazeldean. 

'Now let this wilfu* grief be done, 
10 And dry that cheek ''o pale; 

Young Frank is chief of Errington 

And lord of Langley-dale ; 
His step is first in peaceful ha', 
His sword in battle keen' — 
15 But aye she loot the tears down fa' 

For Jock of Hazeldean. 

'A chain of gold ye sail not lack, 

Nor braid to bind your hair, 
Nor mettled liound, nor managed hawk, 
20 Nor palfrey fresh and fair; 



266 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxxvii 

And you the foremost o' them a' 

Shall ride our forest-queen' — 
But aye she loot the tears down fa' 

For Jock of Hazeldean. 

5 The kirk was deck'd at morning-tide, 

The tapers glimmer' d fair; 
The priest and bridegroom wait the bride, 

And dame and knight are there: 
They sought her baith by bower and ha'; 
10 The ladie was not seen! 

She's o'er the Border, and awa' 
Wi' Jock of Hazeldean. 

Sir W. Scott 



CCXXVIII 

LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY 

The fountains mingle with the river 
And the rivers wath the ocean, 
The winds of heaven mix for ever 

^ With a sweet emotion; 

5 Nothing in the world is single, 

All things by a law divine 
In one another's being mingle — 
Why not I with thine? 

See the mountains kiss high heaven^ 
10 And the waves clasp one another; 

No sister-flower would be forgiven 
If it disdain'd its brother: 
And the sunlight clasps the earth, 
And the moonbeams kiss the sea — 
15 What are all these kissings worth. 

If thou kiss not me? 

P. B. Shelley 



Book Fourth 267 

CCXXIX 

ECHOES 

How sweet the answer Echo makes 

To Music at night 

When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes, 

And far away o'er lawns and lakes 

Goes answering light! 

Yet Love hath echoes truer far 

And far more sweet 

Than e'er, beneath the moonlight's star, 

Of horn or lute or soft guitar 

The songs repeat. 

'Tis when the sigh, — in yovith sincere 
And only then, 

The sigh that's breathed for one to hear— 
Is by that one, that only Dear 
Breathed back again. 

T. Moore 

ccxxx 
A SERENADE 

Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh, 

The sun has left the lea, 
The orange-flower perfumes the bower, 

The breeze is on the sea. 
The lark, his lay who thrill'd all day, 

Sits hush'd liis partner nigh; 
Breeze, bird, and flower confess the hour, 

But where is County Guy? 

The village maid steals through the shade 

Her shepherd's suit to hear; 
To Beauty shy, by lattice high, 

Sings high-born Cavalier. 



268 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxxx 

The star of Love, all stars above, 
Now reigns o'er earth and sky. 
And high and low the influence know — 
But where is County Guy? 

Sir Walter ScoU 



TO THE EVENING STAR 

Gem of the crimson-colour' d Even, 
Companion of retiring day, 
Why at the closing gates of heaven, 
Beloved Star, dost thou delay? 

6 So fair thy pensile beauty bums 

When soft the tear of twilight flows; 
So due thy plighted love returns 
To chambers brighter than the rose; 

To Peace, to Pleasure, and to Love 
10 So kind a star thou seem'st to be, 

Sure some enamour'd orb above 
Descends and burns to meet with thee. 

Thine is the breathing, blushing hour 
When all unheavenly passions fly, 
15 Chased by the soul-subduing power 

Of Love's dehcious witchery. 

O! sacred to the fall of day 
Queen of propitious stars, appear, 
And early rise, and long delay, 
20 When Caroline herself is here! 

Shine on her chosen green resort 
Whose trees the sunward summit crown, 
And wanton flowers, that well may court 
An angel's feet to tread them down- — 

25 Shine on her sweetly scented road 

Thou star of evening's purple dome. 
That lead'st the nightingale abroad, 
And guid'st the pilgrim to his home. 



ccxxxii] Book Fourth 269 

Shine where my charmer's sweeter breath 
Embalms the soft exhahng dew, 
Where dying winds a sigh bequeath 
To kiss the cheek of rosy hue: — 

5 Where, wmnow'd by the gentle air, 

Her silken tresses darkly flow 
And fall upon her brow so fair. 
Like shadows on the mountain snow. 

Thus, ever thus, at day's decline 
10 In converse sweet to wander far — 

O bring with thee my Caroline, 
And thou shalt be my Ruhng Star! 

T. CampbeU 

CCXXXII 

TO THE NIGHT 

Swiftly walk over the western wave, 

Spirit of Night! 
Out of the misty eastern cave 
Where, all the long and lone daylight, 
5 Thou wo vest dreams of joy and fear 
Which make thee terrible and dear, — 

Swift be thy flight! 

Wrap thy form in a mantle gray 

Star-inwrought; 
10 Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day, 
Kiss her until she be wearied out: 
Then wander o'er city and sea and land. 
Touching all with tliine opiate wand — 

Come, long-sought! 

15 When I arose and saw the dawn, 
I sigh'd for thee; 
When light rode liigh, and the dew was gone, 
And noon lay heavy on flower and tree, 
And the weary Day turn'd to his rest 
20 Lingering like an unloved juest, 
I sigh'd for thee. 



270 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxxxii 

Thy brother Death came, and cried 

Wouldst thou me? 
Thy sweet cliild Sleep, the filmy-eyed, 
Murmur'd like a noon-tide bee 
5 Shall I nestle near thy side? 

Wouldst thou me? — And I replied 
No, not thee! 

Death will come when thou art dead, 
Soon, too soon — 
10 Sleep will come when thou art fled; 

Of neither would I ask the boon 
I ask of thee, beloved Night — 
Swift be thine approacliing flight. 
Come soon, soon! 

P. B. Shelley 



CCXXXIII 

TO A DISTANT FRIEND 

Why art thou silent? Is thy love a plant 
Of such weak fibre that the treacherous air 
Of absence gathers what was once so fair? 
Is there no debt to pay, no boon to grant? 
5 Yet have my thoughts for thee been vigilant, 
Bound to thy service -with unceasing care — 
The mind's least generous wish a mendicant 
For nought but what thy happiness could spare. 
Speak! — though this soft warm heart, once free to 
hold 
10 A thousand tender pleasures, thine and mine, 
Be left more desolate, more dreary cold 
Than a forsaken bird's-nest fill'd with snow 
'Mid its own bush of leafless eglantine — 
Speak, that my torturing doubts their end may know! 

W. Wordsworth 



ccxxxiv] Book Fourth 271 



When we two parted 
In silence and tears, 
Half broken-hearted, 
To sever for years, 
5 Pale grew thy cheek and cold, 

Colder thy kiss; 
Truly that hour foretold 
Sorrow to this! 

The dew of the morning 
10 Sunk chill on my brow; 

It felt like the warning 
Of what I feel now, 
Thy vows are all broken, 
And light is thy fame: 
15 I hear thy name spoken 

And share in its shame. 

They name thee before me, 
A knell to mine ear; 
A shudder comes o'er me — 
20 Why wert thou so dear? 

They know not I knew thee 
Who knew thee too well: 
Long, long shall I rue thee, 
Too deeply to tell. 

25 In secret we met: 

In silence I grieve 
That thy heart could forget, 
Thy spirit deceive. 
If I should meet thee 

30 After long years, 

How should I greet thee? — 
With silence and tears. 

Lord Byron 



272 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxxxv 

ccxxxv 

HAPPY INSENSIBILITY 

In a drear-nighted December, 
Too happy, happy tree, 
Thy branches ne'er remember 
Their green fehcity: 
5 The north cannot undo them 

With a sleety whistle through them, 
Nor frozen tha wings glue them 
From budding at the prime. 

In a drear-nighted December, 
10 Too happy, happy brook. 

Thy bubblings ne'er remember 

Apollo's summer look; 

But with a sweet forgetting 

They stay their crystal fretting, 
15 Never, never petting 

About the frozen time. 

Ah! would 'twere so with many 
A gentle girl and boy! 
But were there ever any 
20 Writhed not at passed joy? 

To know the change and feel it, 
When there is none to heal it 
Nor numbed sense to steal it — 
Was never said in rhyme. 

J. Keats 



ccxxxvi 

Where shall the lover rest 
Whom the fates sever 

From his true maiden's breast 
Parted for ever? 



ccxxxvi] Book Fourth 273 

Where, through groves deep and high 

Sounds the far billow, 
Where early violets die 

Under the willow. 
5 Eleu loro 

Soft shall be his pillow. 

There through the summer day- 
Cool streams are laving: 

There, while the tempests sway, 
10 Scarce are boughs waving; 

There thy rest shalt thou take, 
Parted for ever, 

Never again to wake 
Never, O never! 
15 Eleu loro 

Never, O never/ 

Where shall the traitor rest. 

He, the deceiver, 
Who could win maiden's breast, 
20 Ruin, and leave her? 

In the lost battle, 

Borne down by the flying, 
Where mingles war's rattle 

With groans of the dying; 
25 Eleu loro 

There shall he be lying. 

Her wing shall the eagle flap 

O'er the falsehearted; 
His warm blood the wolf shall lap 
30 Ere life be parted: 

Shame and dishonour sit 

By his grave ever; 
Blessing shall hallow it 
Never, O never! 
35 Eleu loro 

Never, O never/ 

Sir W. Scott 



274 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxxxvii 

CCXXXVII 

LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI 

'O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, 

Alone and palely loitering? 
The sedge has wither'd from the lake, 

And no birds sing. 

5 * O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms ! * 

So haggard and so woe-begone? 
The squirrel's granary is full, 
And the harvest's done. 

'I see a lily on thy brow 
10 With anguish moist and fever-dew, 

And on thy cheeks a fading rose 
Fast withereth too.' 

'I met a lady in the meads. 
Full beautiful — a faery's child, 
15 Her hair was long, her foot was light, 

And her eyes were wild. 

'I made a garland for her head. 

And bracelets too, and fragrant zone; 
She look'd at me as she did love, 
20 And made sweet moan. 

*I set her on my pacing steed 

And nothing else saw all day long, 

For sidelong would she bend, and sing 
A faery's song. 

25 'She found me roots of relish sweet, 

And honey wild and manna-dew. 
And sure in language strange she said 
"I love thee true." 

'She took me to her elfin grot, 
30 And there she wept and sigh'd full sore; 

And there I shut her wild wild eyes 
With kisses four. 



ccxxxviii] Book Fourth 275 

'And there she lulled me asleep, 

And there I dream' d — Ah! woe betide! 

The latest dream I ever dream'd 
On the cold hill's side. 

6 *I saw pale kings and princes too, 

Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; 
They cried — "La belle Dame sans Merci 
Hath thee in thrall!" 

'I saw their starved lips in the gloam 
10 With horrid warning gaped wide, 

And I awoke and found me here 
On the cold hill's side. 

'And this is why I sojourn here 
Alone and palely loitering, 
15 Though the sedge is \\-ither'd from the lake, 

And no birds sing.' 

J, Keats 



CCXXXVIII 

THE ROVER 

A weary lot is thine, fair maid, 

A weary lot is thine! 
To pull the thorn thy brow to braid, 
And press the rue for wine. 
6 A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien, 

A feather of the blue, 
A doublet of the Lincoln green — 
No more of me you knew 
My Love! 
II? No more of me you knew. 

*This mom is merry June, I trow. 
The rose is budding fain; 

But she shall bloom in winter snow 
Ere we two meet again.' 



276 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxxxvifi 

He tum'd his charger as he spake 

Upon the river shore, 
He gave the bridal-reins a shake. 
Said 'Adieu for evermore 
6 My Love! 

And adieu for evermore,' 

Sir W. Scott 



CCXXXIX 

THE FLIGHT OF LOVE 

When the lamp is shatter' d 
The hght in the dust Hes dead — 
When the cloud is scatter' d, 
The rainbow's glory is shed. 
.5 When the lute is broken, 

Sweet tones are remember'd not; 
When the lips have spoken. 
Loved accents are soon forgot. 

As music and splendour 
10 Survive not the lamp and the lute, 

The heart's echoes render 
No song when the spirit is mute — 
No song but sad dirges, 
Like the wind through a ruin'd cell, 
15 Or the mournful surges 

That ring the dead seaman's knell. 

When hearts have once mingled. 
Love first leaves the well-built nest; 
The weak one is singled 
20 To endure what it once possesst. 

O Love! who bewailest 
The frailty of all things here. 
Why choose you the frailest 
For your cradle, your home, and your bier? 



ccxl] Book Fourth 277 

Its passions will rock thee 
As the storms rock the ravens on high; 
Bright reason will mock thee 
Like the sun from a wintry sky. 
5 From thy nest every rafter 

Will rot, and tliine eagle home 

Leave thee naked to laughter, 

When leaves fall and cold winds come. 

P. B. Shelley 



THE MAID OF NEIDPATH 

O lovers' eyes are sharp to see, 

And lovers' ears in hearing; 
And love, in hfe's extremity, 

Can lend an hour of cheering. 
5 Disease had been in Mary's bower 

And slow decay from mourning, 
Though now she sits on Neidpath's tower 

To watch her Love's returning. 

All sunk and dim her eyes so bright, 
10 Her form decay' d by pining, 

Till through her wasted hand, at night, 

You saw the taper shining. 
By fits a sultry hectic hue 
Across her cheek was flying; 
15 By fits so ashy pale she grew 

Her maidens thought her dying. 

Yet keenest powers to see and hear 
Seem'd in her frame residing; 

Before the watch-dog prick'd his ear 
20 She heard her lover's riding; 

Ere scarce a distant form was kenn'd 
She knew and waved to greet him, 

And o'er the battlement did bend 
As on the wing to meet him. 



278 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxl 

He came — he pass'd — an heedless gaze 

As o'er some stranger glancing; 
Her welcome, spoke in faltering phrase, 
Lost in his courser's prancing — 
5 The castle-arch, whose hollow tone 

Returns each whisper spoken. 
Could scarcely catch the feeble moan 
Which told her heart was broken. 

Sir W. Scott 



CCXLI 

Earl March look'd on his dying child, 
And, smit with grief to view her — 

The youth, he cried, whom I exiled 
Shall be restored to woo her. 

5 She's at the window many an hour 

His coming to discover: 
And he look'd up to Ellen's bower 
And she look'd on her lover — 

But ah! so pale, he knew her not, 
10 Though her smile on him was dwelling — 

And am I then forgot— forgot ? 
It broke the heart of Ellen. 

In vain he weeps, in vain he sighs, 
Her cheek is cold as ashes; 
15 Nor love's own kiss shall wake those eyes 

To lift their silken lashes. 

T, Campbell 



Bright Star! would I were steadfast as thou art- 
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night, 
And watching, with eternal lids apart, 
Like Nature's patient sleepless Eremite. 



ccxliii] Book Fourth 279 

The moving waters at their priestlike task 
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores, 
Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask 
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors: — 
5 No — yet still steadfast, still unchangeable, 
Pillow'd upon my fair Love's ripening breast 
To feel forever its soft fall and swell, 
Awake forever in a sweet unrest; 
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, 
10 And so live ever, — or else swoon to death. 

J. Keats 



CCXLIII 

THE TERROR OF DEATH 

When I have fears that I may cease to be 
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain, 
Before liigh-piled books, in charact'ry 
Hold Hke rich garners the full-ripen'd grain; 

5 When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, 
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, 
And think that I may never live to trace 
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance 
And when I feel, fair Creature of an hour! 

10 That I shall never look upon thee more. 
Never have relish in the faery power 
Of unreflecting love — then on the shore 
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think 
Till Love and Fame to notliingness do sink. 

J. Keats 



sSG Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxliv 



CCXLIV 

DESIDERIA 

Surprized by joy — impatient as the wind — 
I turn'd to share the transport — Ohl with whom 
But Thee — deep buried in the silent tomb, 
That spot which no vicissitude can find? 
5 Love, faithful love recall'd thee to my mind — 
But how could I forget thee? Through what power 
Even for the least division of an hour 
Have I been so beguiled as to be blind 
To my most grievous loss! — That thiought's return 
10 Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore 
Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn, 
Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more; • 
That neither present time, nor years unborn 
Could to my sight that heavenly face restore. 

W. Wordsworth 



CCXLV 

At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly 
To the lone vale we loved, when Hfe shone warm in 

thine eye; 
And I think oft, if spirits can steal from the regions 

of air 
To revisit past scenes of delight, thou wilt come to 

me there 
5 And tell me our love is remember'd, even in the skyi 

Then I sing the wild song it once was rapture to hear 
When our voices, commingling, breathed like one on 

the ear; 
And as Echo far off through the vale my sad orison 

rolls, 



ccxlvi] Book Fourth 281 

I think, oh my Love! 'tis thy voice, from the Kingdom 

of Souls 
Faintly answering still the notes that once were so 

dear. 

T. Moore 



ELEGY ON THYRZA 

And thou art dead, as young and fair 

As aught of mortal birth; 
And forms so soft and charms so rare 

Too soon return'd to Earth! 
5 Though Earth received them in her bed, 

And o'er the spot the crowd may tread 

In carelessness or mirth, 
There is an eye which could not brook 
A moment on that grave to look. 

ao I will not ask where thou liest low 

Nor gaze upon the spot; 
There flowers or weeds at will may grow 

So I behold them not: 
It is enough for me to prove 
15 That what I loved, and long must love, 

Like common earth can rot; 
To me there needs no stone to tell 
'Tis Nothing that I loved so well. 

Yet did I love thee to the last, 

20 As fervently as thou 

Who didst not change through all the past 

And canst not alter now. 
The love where Death has set his seal 
Nor age can chill, nor rival steal, 

25 Nor falsehood disavow: 

And, what were worse, thou canst not see 
Or wrong, or change, or fault in me. 



282 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxlvi 

The better days of life were ours; 

The worst can be but mine: 
The sun that cheers, the storm that lours. 

Shall never more be thine. 
5 The silence of that dreamless sleep 

I envy now too much to weep; 

Nor need I to repine 
That all those charms have pass'd away 
I might have watch'd through long decay. 

10 The flower in ripen 'd bloom unmatch'd 

Must fall the earliest prey; 
Though by no hand untimely snatch'd, 

The leaves must drop away. 
And yet it were a greater grief 
i5 To watch it withering, leaf by leaf, 

Than see it pluck'd today; 
Since earthly eye but ill can bear 
To trace the change to foul from fair. 

I know not if I could have borne 
20 To see thy beauties fade; 

The night that follow'd such a mom 
Had worn a deeper shade: 

Thy day without a cloud hath past. 

And thou wert lovely to the last, 
25 Extinguish'd, not decay'd; 

As stars that shoot along the sky 

Shine brightest as they fall from high. 

As once I wept, if I could weep, 
My tears might well be shed 
§0 To think I was not near, to keep 

One vigil o'er thy bed: 
To gaze, how fondly! on thy face. 
To fold thee in a faint embrace, 
Uphold thy drooping head; 
35 And show that love, however vain, 

Nor thou nor I can feel again. 

Yet how much less it were to gain, 

Though thou hast left me free. 
The loveliest things that still remain 
40 Than thus remember thee! 



ccxlviii] Book Fourth 283 

The all of thine that cannot die 
Through dark and dread Eternity 

Returns again to me, 
And more thy buried love endears 
5 Than aught except its living j^ears. 

Lord Byron 



ccxLvir 

One word is too often profaned 

For me to profane it, 
One feeling too falsely disdain 'd 

For thee to disdain it. 
5 One hope is too like despair 

For prudence to smother, 
And pity from thee more dear 

Than that from another, 

I can give not what men call love; 
10 But wilt thou accept not 

The worship the heart lifts above 

And the Heavens reject not: 
The desire of the moth for the star, 
Of the night for the morrow, 
15 The devotion to something afar 

From the sphere of our sorrow? 

P. B. Shelley 



CCXLVIII 

GATHERING SONG OF DONALD THE BLACK 

Pibroch of Donuil Dhu 

Pibroch of Donuil 
Wake thy wild voice anew, 

Summon Clan Conuil. 



284 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [eexlviii 

Come away, come away, 

Hark to the summons 1 
Come in your war-array, 

Gentles and commons. 

5 Come from deep glen, and 

From mountain so rocky; 
The war-pipe and pennon 

Are at Inverlocky. 
Come every hill-plaid, and 
10 True heart that wears one, 

Come every steel blade, and 
Strong hand that bears one. 

Leave untended the herd, 
The flock without shelter; 
15 Leave the corpse uninterr'd, 

The bride p.t ths altar; 
Leave the deer, leave the steer. 

Leave nets and barges: 
Come with your fighting gear, 
20 Broadswords and targes. 

Come as the winds come, when 

Forests are rended, 
Come as the waves come, when 

Navies are stranded: 
25 Faster come, faster come. 

Faster and faster, 
Chief, vassal, page and groom, 

Tenant and master. 

Fast they come, fast they come; 
30 See how they gather! 

Wide waves the eagle plume 

Blended -wdth heather. 
Cast your plaids, draw your blades, 
Forward each man set! 
35 Pibroch of Donuil Dhu 

Knell for the onset! 

Sir W. Scott 



sclj Book Fourth 286 



A wet sheet and a flowing sea, 

A wind that follows fast 
And fills the white and rustling sail 

And bends the gallant mast; 
5 And bends the gallant mast, my boys, 

While like the eagle free 
Away the good ship flies, and leaves 

Old England on the lee. 

O for a soft and gentle wind! 
10 I heard a fair one cry; 

But give to me the snoring breeze 
And white waves heaving high; 
And white waves heaving high, my lads, 
The good ship tight and free — 
15 The world of waters is our home. 

And merry men are we. 

There's tempest in yon horned moon, 

And lightning in yon cloud; 
But hark the music, mariners! 
2C The wind is piping loud; 

The wind is piping loud, my boys, 

The lightning flashes free — 
While the hollow oak our palace is, 
Our heritage the sea. 

A. Cunningham 



CCL 

Ye Mariners of England 

That guard our native seas! 

Whose flag has braved, a thousand years. 

The battle and the breeze! 

Your glorious standard launch again 

To match another foe: 



2S6 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccl 

And sweep through the deep, 
While the stormy winds do blow; 
While the battle rages loud and long 
And the stormy winds do blow. 

5 The spirits of your fathers 

Shall start from every wave— 
For the deck it was their field of fame, 
And Ocean was their grave: 
Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell 
10 Your manly hearts shall glow, 

As ye sweep through the deep, 
While the stormy winds do blow; 
While the battle rages loud and long 
And the stormy winds do blow. 

15 Britannia needs no bulwarks, 

No towers along the steep; 

Her march is o'er the mountain-waves, 

Her home is on the deep. 

With thunders from her native oak 
20 She quells the floods below — 

As they roar on the shore. 

When the stormy winds do blow; 

When the battle rages loud and long, 

And the stormy winds do blow. 

25 The meteor flag of England 

Shall yet terrific burn; 

Till danger's troubled night depart 

And the star of peace return. 

Then, then, ye ocean-warriors! 
30 Our song and feast shall flow 

To the fame of your name, 

When the storm has ceased to blow; 

When the fiery fight is heard no more, 

And the storm has ceased to blow. 

T. Campbell 



ccli] Book Fourth 287 



BATTLE OF THE BALTIC 

Of Nelson and the North 
Sing the glorious day's renown, 
When to battle fierce came forth 
All the might of Denmark's crown, 
5 And her arms along the deep proudly shone; 
By each gun the lighted brand 
In a bold determined hand. 
And the Prince of all the land 
Led them on. 

10 Like leviathans afloat 

Lay their bulwarks on the brine; 

While the sign of battle flew 

On the lofty British line: 

It was ten of April morn by the chime: 
15 As they drifted on their path 

There was silence deep as death; 

And the boldest held his breath 

For a time. 

But the might of England flush'd 
20 To anticipate the scene; 

And her van the fleeter rush'd 

O'er the deadly space between. 

'Hearts of oak!' our captains cried, when each gun 

From its adamantine lips 
25 Spread a death-shade round the ships, 

Like the hurricane eclipse 

Of the sun. 

Again! again! again! 

And the havoc did not slack, 
30 Till a feeble cheer the Dane 

To our cheering sent us back; — 

Their shots along the deep slowly boom: — 

Then ceased — and all is wail. 

As they strike the shatter'd sail; 
35 Or in conflagration pale 

Light the gloom. 



288 Palgrave's Golden 'Treasury [eels 

Out spoke the victor then 
As he hail'd them o'er the wave, 
*Ye are brothers! ye are men! 
And we conquer but to save: — 
5 So peace instead of death let us bring: 
But yield, proud foe, thy fleet 
With the crews, at England's feet, 
And make submission meet 
To our King.' 

10 Then Denmark bless 'd our chief 

That he gave her wounds repose; 

And the sounds of joy and grief 

From her people wildly rose. 

As death withdrew his shades from the day: 
15 While the sun look'd smiling bright 

O'er a wide and woeful sight, 

Where the fires of funeral light 

Died away. 

Now joy, old England, raise! 
20 For the tidings of thy might, ^ 

By the festal cities' blaze. 

Whilst the wine-cup shines in light; 

And yet amidst that joy and uproar, 

Let us think of them that sleep 
25 Full many a fathom deep 

By thy wild and stormy steep, 

Elsinore! 

Brave hearts! to Britain's pride 

Once so faithful and so true, 
JO On the deck of fame that died. 

With the gallant good Riou: 

Soft sigh the winds of Heaven o'er theii gravel 

While the billow mournful rolls 

And the mermaid's song condoles 
35 Singing glory to the souls 

Of the brave! 

T. Campbell 



cclii] Book Fourth 289 



ODE TO DUTY 

Stem Daughter of the Voice of God! 
O Duty! if that name thou love 
. Who art a hght to guide, a rod 
To check the erring, and reprove; 
5 Thou who art victory and law 
When empty terrors overawe: 
From vain temptations dost set free, 
And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity! 

There are who ask not if thine eye 
10 Be on them; who, in love and truth 
Where no misgiving is, rely ■ 
Upon the genial sense of youth: 
Glad hearts! without reproach or blot, 
Who do thy work, and know it not: 
15 Oh! if through confidence misplaced 

They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power! around them 
cast. 

Serene ^^^ll be our days and bright 
And happy will our nature be 
When love is an unerring light, 
20 And joy its own security. 

And they a blissful course may hold 
Ev'n now, who, not unwisely bold, 
Live in the spirit of this creed; 
Yet seek thy firm support, according to their need, 

25 I, loving freedom, and untried. 

No sport of every random gust, 

Yet being to myself a guide. 

Too blindly have reposed my trust: 

And oft, when in my heart was heard 
30 Thy timely mandate, I deferr'd 

The task, in smoother walks to stray; 
But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may. 



290 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclii 

Through no disturbance of my soul 
Or strong compunction in me wrought, 
I supphcate for thy controul, 
But in the quietness of thought: 
5 Me this uncharter'd freedom tires; 
I feel the weight of chance-desires: 
My hopes no more must change their name; 
I long for a repose that ever is the same. 

Stem Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear 
10 The Godhead's most benignant grace; 
Nor know we anything so fair 
As is the smile upon thy face: 
Flowers laugh before thee on their beds, 
And fragrance in thy footing treads; 
15 Thou dost preserve the Stars from wrong; 

And the most ancient Heavens, through Thee, are 
fresh and strong. 

To humbler functions, awful Power! 
I call thee: I myself commend 
Unto thy guidance from this hour; 
20 Oh let my weakness have an end! 
Give unto me, made lowly wise. 
The spirit of self-sacrifice; 
The confidence of reason give; 
And in the light of truth thy Bondman let me live. 

W. Wordsworth 



CCLIII 

ON THE CASTLE OF CHILLON 

Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind! 
Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art, 
For there thy habitation is the heart — 
The heart which love of Thee alone can bind; 
And when thy sons to fetters are consign'd. 
To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, 
Their country conquers with their martyrdom, 
And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. 



cclvj Book Fourth 291 

Chillon! thy prison is a holy place 
And thy sad floor an altar, for 'twas trod, 
Until his very steps have left a trace 
Worn as if thy cold pavement were a sod, 
5 By Bonnivard! May none those marks efface! 
For they appeal from tyranny to God. 

Lord Byron 



CCLIV 

ENGLAND AND SWITZERLAND, 1802 

Two Voices are there; one is of the Sea, 
One of the Mountains; each a mighty voice: 
In both from age to age thou didst rejoice, 
They were thy chosen music. Liberty! 
5 There came a tyrant, and \Nith holy glee 
Thou fought'st against liim, — but hast vainly striven : 
Thou from thy Alpine holds at length art driven, 
Where not a torrent murmurs heard by thee. 
— Of one deep bliss thine ear hath been bereft; 
10 Then cleave, O cleave to that which still is left — 
For, high-soul'd Maid, what sorrow would it be 
That Mountain floods should thunder as before. 
And Ocean bellow from his rocky shore, 
And neither awful \'oice be heard by Thee! 

W. Wordsworth 



CCLV 

ON THE EXTINCTION OF THE VENETIAN 
REPUBLIC 

Once did She hold the gorgeous East in fee 
And was the safeguard of the West; the worth 
Of Venice did not fall below her birth, 
Venice, the eldest child of Liberty. 



292 Palgrave^s Golden Treasury [cclv 

She was a maiden city, bright and free; 
No guile seduced, no force could violate; 
And when she took unto herself a mate, 
She must espouse the everlasting Sea. 
5 And what if she had seen those glories fade, 
Those titles vanish, and that strength decay, — 
Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid 
When her long life hath reach'd its final day: 
Men are we, and must grieve when even the shade 
10 Of that which once was great is pass'd away. 

TT. Wordsworth 



LONDON, 1802 

O Friend I I know not which way I must look 
For comfort, being, as I am, opprest 
To think that now our life is only drest 
For show; mean handy- work of craftsman, cook, 
5 Or groom! — ^We must run glittering like a brook 
In the open sunshine, or we are unblest; 
The wealthiest man among us is the best: 
No grandeur now in nature or in book 
Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense, 
10 This is idolatry; and these we adore: 

Plain living and high thinking are no more: 
The homely beauty of the good old cause 
Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence, 
And pure religion breathing household laws. 

W. Wordsworth 



CCLVII 

THE SAME 

Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour: 
England hath need of thee: she is a fen 
Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen. 
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, 



eclix] Book Fourth 293 

Have forfeited their ancient English dower 
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men: 
Oh! raise us up, return to us again; 
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power. 
5 Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart: 
Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea, 
Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free; 
So didst thou travel on life's common way 
In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart ^ 

IC The lowliest duties on herself did lay. 

W. Wordsworth 



CCLVIII 

When I have borne in memory what has tamed 
Great nations; how ennobling thoughts depart 
When men change swords for ledgers, and desert 
The student's bower for gold, — some fears unnamed 
5 I had, my Country! — am I to be blamed? 
Now, when I think of thee, and what thou art, 
Verily, in the bottom of my heart 
Of those unfilial fears I am ashamed. 
For dearly must we prize thee; we who find 
10 In thee a bulwark for the cause of men; 
And I by my affection was beguiled: 
What wonder if a Poet now and then, 
Among the many movements of his mind, 
Felt for thee as a lover or a child! * 

W. Wordsworth 



CCLIX 

HOHENLINDEN 

On Linden, when the sun was low, 
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow; 
And dark as winter was the flow 
Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 



294 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccL^ 

But Linden saw another sight, 
When the drum beat at dead of night 
Commanding fires of death to Kght 
The darkness of her scenery, 
6 By torch and trumpet fast array'd 

Each horseman drew his battle-blade, 
And fvirious every charger neigh'd 

To join the dreadful revelry. 
Then shook the hills with thunder riven; ^ 

10 Then rush'd the steed, to battle driven; 

And louder than the bolts of Heaven 

Far flash'd the red artillery. 
But redder yet that light shall grow 
On Linden's hills of stained snow; 
15 And bloodier yet the torrent flow 

Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 
'Tis morn; but scarce yon level sun 
Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, 
Where furious Frank and fiery Hun 
20 Shout in their sulphurous canopy. 

The combat deepens. On, ye Brave 
Who rush to glory, or the grave! 
Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave. 
And charge with all thy chivalry! 
25 Few, few shall part, where many meet! 

The snow shall be their winding-sheet. 
And every turf beneath their feet 
Shall be a soldier's sepulchre. 

T. Camfhell 

CCLX 

AFTER BLENHEIM 

It was a summer evening. 
Old Kaspar's work was done. 

And he before his cottage door 
Was sitting in the sun; 
6 And by liim sported on the green 

His little grandchild Wilhelmine. 



cclx] Book Fourth 295 

She saw her brother Peterkin 

Roll something large and round 
Which he beside the rivulet 

In playing there had foUnc', 
5 He came to ask what he had found 

That was so large and smooth and round. 

Old Kaspar took it from the boy 

Who stood expectant by; 
And then the old man shook his head, 
10 And with a natural sigh 

"Tis some poor's fellow's skull/ said he, 
'Who fell in the great victory. 

'I find them in the garden, 

For there's many here about; 
15 And often when I go to plough 

The ploughshare turns them out. 
For many thousand men/ said he, 
'Were slain in that great victory,' 

'Now tell us what 'twas all about,' 
20 Young Peterkin he cries; 

And little Wilhelmine looks up 

With wonder- waiting eyes; 
'Now tell us all about the war, 
And what they fought each other for/ 

25 'It was the English/ Kaspar cried, 

'Who put the French to rout; 
But what they fought each other for 

I could not well make out. 
But every body said,' quoth he, 
30 'That 'twas a famous victory. 

'My father hved at Blenheim then, 

Yon little stream hard by; 
They burnt his dwelling to the ground, 

And he was forced to fly: 
35 So with his wife and chikf he fied. 

Nor had he where to rest his head, 

'With fire and sword the country round 
Was wasted far and wide, 



296 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclx 

And many a childing mother then 

And newborn baby died: 
But things Hke that, you know, must be 
At every famous victory. 

5 'They say it was a shocking sight 

After the field was won; 
For many thousand bodies here 

Lay rotting in the sun: 
But things hke that, you know, must be 
10 After a famous victory. 

'Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won 

And our good Prince Eugene;' 
'Why 'twas a very wicked thing!' 
Said Httle Wilhelmine; 
15 'Nay . . nay . . my Httle girl,' quoth he, 

'It was a famous victory. 

'And every body praised the Duke 

Who this great fight did win,' 
'But what good came of it at last?' 
20 Quoth little Peterkin: — 

'Why that I cannot tell,' said he, 
'But 'twas a famous victory.' 

R. Southey 



CCLXI 

PRO P ATRIA MORI 

When he who adores thee has left but the name 

Of his fault and his sorrows behind, 
Oh! say wilt thou weep, when they darken the fame 

Of a life that for thee was resign'd! 
6 Yes, weep, and however my foes may condemn, 

Thy tears shall efface their decree; 
For, Heaven can witness, though guilty to them, 

I have been but too faithful to thee. 



cclxii] Book Fourth 297 

With thee were the dreams of my earhest love; 

Every thought of my reason was tliine: 
In my last humble prayer to the Spirit above 
Thy name shall be mingled \\ith mine! 
5 Oh! blest are the lovers and friends who shall live 
The days of thy glory to see; 
But the next dearest blessing that Heaven can give 
Is the pride of thus dying for thee. 

T. Moore 



THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE 
AT CORUNNA 

Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, 
As his corpse to the rampart we hurried; 

Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot 
O'er the grave where our hero we buried. 

We buried him darkly at dead of night, 

The sods with our bayonets turning; 
By the struggling moonbeam's misty light 

And the lantern dimly burnirg. 

No useless coffin enclosed his breast, 
10 Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him; 
But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, 
With his martial cloak around him. 

Few and short were the prayers we said, 
And we spoke not a word of sorrow; 
15 But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was deadj 
And we bitterly thought of the morrow. 

We thought, as we hollow 'd his narrow bed 

And smoothed down his lonely pillow. 
That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his 
head, 
20 And we far away on the billow! 

Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone 
And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him, — 

Bvit little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on 
In the grave where a Briton has laid him. 



298 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclxij 

But half of our heavy task was done 

When the clock struck the hour for retiring: 

And we heard the distant and random gun 
That the foe was sullenly firing. 

5 Slowly and sadly we laid him down, 

From the field of his fame fresh and gory: 
We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone^ 
]3ut we left him alone with his glory. 

C. Wolfe 



SIMON LEE THE OLD HUNTSMAN 

In the sweet shire of Cardigan, 
Not far from pleasant Ivor Hall, 
An old man dwells, a little man, — 
'Tis said he once was tall. 
5 Full five-and-thirty years he lived 

A running huntsman merry; 
And still the centre of his cheek 
Is red as a ripe cherry. 

No man like him the horn could sound, 
10 And hill and valley rang with glee, 

When Echo bandied, round and round, 

The halloo of Simon Lee. 

In those proud days he little cared 

For husbandry or tillage; 
15 To blither tasks did Simon rouse 

The sleepers of the village. 

He all the country could outrun, 
Could leave both man and horse behind: 
And often, ere the chase was done, 
20 He reel'd and was stone-blind. 

And still there's something in the world 
At which his heart rejoices; 
For when the chiming hounds are out, 
He dearly loves their voices. 



cclxiii] Book Fourth 299 

But oh the heavy change! — bereft 
Of health, strength, friends and kindred, seel 
Old Simon to the world is left 
In liveried poverty: — 
5 His master's dead, and no one now 

Dwells in the Hall of Ivor; 
Men, dogs, and horses, all are dead; 
He is the sole survivor. 

And he is lean and he is sick, 
10 His body, dwindled and awry, 

Rests upon ankles swoln and tliick; 

His legs are tliin and dry. 

One prop he has, and only one, — 

His wife, an aged woman, 
15 Lives with him, near the waterfall. 

Upon the village common. 

Beside their moss-grown hut of clay, 
Not twenty paces from the door, 
A scrap of land they have, but they 
20 Are poorest of the poor. 

This scrap of land he from the heath 
Enclosed when he was stronger; 
But what to them avails the land 
Which he can till no longer? 

25 Oft, working by her husband's side, 

Ruth does what Simon cannot do; 

For she, with scanty cause for pride, 

Is stouter of the two. 

And, though you with your utmost skill 
30 From labour could not wean them, 

'Tis httle, very httle, all 

That they can do between them. 

Few months of life has he in store 

As he to you will tell, 
35 For still, the more he works, the more 

Do liis weak ankles swell. 

My gentle Reader, I perceive 

How patiently you've waited. 

And now I fear that you expect 
40 Some tale will be related. 



300 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclxiii 

O Reader! had you in your mind 
Such stores as silent thought can bring, 

gentle Reader! you would find 
A tale in every thang. 

6 What more I have to say is short, 

And you must kindly take it: 
It is no tale; but, should you think, 
Perhaps a tale you'll make it. 

One summer-day I chanced to see 
10 This old Man doing all he could 

To unearth the root of an old tree, 

A stump of rotten wood. 

The mattock totter'd in liis hand; 

So vain was his endeavour 
15 That at the root of the old tree 

He might have work'd for ever. 

'You're overtask'd, good Simon Lee, 
Give me your tool,' to liim I said; 
And at the word right gladly he 
20 Received my proffer'd aid. 

1 struck, and with a single blow 
The tangled root I sever'd. 

At which the poor old man so long 
And vainly had endeavour'd. 

25 The tears into his eyes were brought, 

And thanks and praises seem'd to run 
So fast out of his heart, I thought 
They never would have done. 
— I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deed 

30 With coldness still returning; 

Alas I the gratitude of men 
Hath oftener left me mourning. 

W. Wordsworth 

CCLXIV 

THE OLD FAMILIAR FACES 

I have had playmates, I have had companions, 

In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days; 

All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. 



cclxv] Book Fourth 301 

I have been laughing, I have been carousing, 
Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cronies; 
All, all are gone, the old famihar faces. 

I loved a Love once, fairest among women: 
5 Closed are her doors on me, I must not see her — • 
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. 

I have a friend, a kinder friend has no man: 
Like an ingrate, I left my friend abruptly; 
Left him, to muse on the old familiar faces. 

10 Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my childhood. 
Earth seem'd a desert I was bound to traverse. 
Seeking to find the old familiar faces. 

Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother, 
Why wert not thou born in my father's dwelling? 
15 So might we talk of the old familiar faces, 

How some they have died, and some they have left 

me, 
And some are taken from me; all are departed; 
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. 



C. Lamb 



CCLXV 

THE JOURNEY ONWARDS 

As slow our ship her foamy track 

Against the wind was cleaving. 
Her trembling pennant still look'd ba^k 

To that dear isle 'twas leaving. 
15 So loth we part from all we love. 

From all the links that bind us: 
So turn our heart^^ as on we rove. 

To those we've*left behind us! 

When, round the bowl, of vanish'd years 
10 We talk with joyous seeming — 

With smiles that might as well be tears, 
So faint, so sad their beaming; 



302 Palgrave^s Golden Treasury [cclxv 

While memory brings us back again 

Each early tie that twined us, 
Oh, sweet's the cup that circles then 

To those we've left behind us! 

5 And when, in other climes, we meet 

Some isle or vale enchanting. 
Where all looks flowery, wild, and sweet, 

And nought but love is wanting; 
We think how great had been our bliss 
10 If Heaven had but assign'd us 

To live and die in scenes like this, 
With some we've left behind us! 

As travellers oft look back at eve 
When eastward darkly going, 
15 To gaze upon that light they leave 

Still faint behind them glowing, — • 
So, when the close of pleasure's day 
To gloom hath near consign'd us, 
We turn to catch one fading ray 
20 Of joy that's left behind us. 

T. Moore 

CCLXVI 

YOUTH AND AGE 

There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes 

away 
When the glow of early thought declines in feeling's 

dull decay; 
'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone, 

which fades so fast, 
But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere -youth 

itself be past. 

5 Then the few whose spirits float above the wreck of 

happiness 
Are driven o'er the shoals of guilt,' or ocean of excess: 
The magnet of their course is gone, or only points in 

vain 
The shore to which their shiver'd sail shall never 

stretch again. 



cclxvii] Book Fourth 303 

Then the mortal coldness of the soul like death itself 

comes down; 
It cannot feel for others' woes, it dare not dream its 

own; 
That heavy chill has frozen o'er the fountain of our 

tears, 
And though the eye may sparkle still, 'tis where the 

ice appears. 

5 Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth 

distract the breast. 
Through midnight hours that yield no more their 

former hope of rest; 
'Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruin'd turret wreathe, 
All green and ^'v-ildly fresh without, but worn and 

gray beneath. 

Oh could I feel as I have felt, or be what I have been, 
10 Or weep as I could once have wept o'er many a van- 
ish'd scene, — 
As springs in deserts found seem sweet, all brackish 

though they be, 
So midst the wither'd waste of life, those tears would 
flow to me! 

Lord Byron 

CCLXVII 

A LESSON 

There is a Flower, the lesser Celandine, 
That shrinks like many more from cold and rain, 
And the first moment that the sun may shine, 
Bright as the sun himself, 'tis out again! 

5 When hailstones have been falling, swarm on swarm, 
Or blasts the green field and the trees distrest, 
Oft have I seen it muffled up from harm 
In close self-shelter, like a thing at rest. 

But lately, one rough day, this Flower I past, 
10 And recognized it, though an alter'd form, 
Now standing forth an offering to the blast, 
And buffeted at will by rain and storm. 



304 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclxvii 

I stopp'd and said, with inly-mutter'd voice, 
'It doth not love the shower, nor seek the cold 
This neither is its courage nor its choice. 
But its necessity in being old. 
5 'The sunshine may not cheer it, nor the dew; 
It cannot help itself in its decay; 
Stiff in its members, wither'd, changed of hue,' — 
And, in my spleen, I smiled that it was gray. 
To be a prodigal's favourite — then, worse truth, 
10 A miser's pensioner — behold our lot! 

O Man! that from thy fair and shining youth 
Age might but take the things Youth needed not! 

W. Wordsworth 

CCLXVIII 

PAST AND PRESENT 

I remember, I remember 

The house where I was born, 

The little window where the sun 

Came peeping in at morn; 
5 He never came a wink too soon 

Nor brought too long a day; 

But now, I often wish the night 

Had borne my breath away. 

I remember, I remember 
10 The roses, red and white. 

The violets, and the lily-cups — 

Those flowers made of light! 

The lilacs where the robin built. 

And where my brother set 
15 The laburnvim on his birth-day, — 

The tree is living yet! 

I remember, I remember 

Where I was used to s^\^ng, 

And thought the air must rush as fresh 
20 To swallows on the wing; 

My spirit flew in feathers then 

That is so heavy now, 

And summer pools could hardly cool 

The fever on my brow. 



cclxix] Book Fourth 305 

I remember, I remember 
The fir trees dark and high; 
I used to think their slender tops 
Were close against the sky: 
5 It was a childish ignorance, 

But now 'tis little joy 
To know I'm farther off from Heaven 
Than when I was a boy. 

T. Hood. 

CCLXIX 

THE LIGHT OF OTHEB DATS 

Oft in the stilly night 

Ere slumber's chain has bound me, 
Fond Memory brings the light 
Of other days around me: 
5 The smiles, the tears 

Of boyhood's years. 
The words of love then spoken ; 
The eyes that shone, 
Now dimm'd and gone, 
10 The cheerful hearts now broken: 

Thus in the stilly night 

Ere slumber's chain has bound me, 
Sad Memory brings the light 
Of other days around me. 

15 When I remember all 

The friends so link'd together 
I've seen around me fall 

Like leaves in wintry weather, 
I feel like one 
20 Who treads alone 

Some banquet-hall deserted. 
Whose lights are fled 
Whose garlands dead, 
And all but he departed ! • 
25 Thus in the stilly night 

Ere slumber's chain has bound me. 
Sad Memory brings the light 
Of other days around me. 

T. Moore 



306 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclxx 

CCLXX 

STANZAS WRITTEN IN DEJECTION 
NEAR NAPLES 

The sun is warm, the sky is clear, 
The waves are dancing fast and bright, 
Blue isles and snowy mountains wear 
The purple noon's transparent might: 
5 The breath of the moist earth is Hght 

Around its unexpanded buds; 
Like many a voice of one delight — 
The winds', the birds', the ocean-floods' — 
The city's voice itself is soft like Sohtude's. 

10 I see the deep's untrampled floor 

With green and purple sea- weeds strovv^n; 
I see the waves upon the shore 
Like light dissolved in star-showers thrown: 
I sit upon the sands alone; 

15 The lightning of the noon-tide ocean 

Is flashing round me, and a tone 
Arises from its measured motion — 
How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion. 
Alas! I have nor hope nor health, 

20 Nor peace within nor calm around, 

Nor that content, surpassing wealth, 
The sage in meditation found, 
And walk'd with inward glory crown'd — • 
Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure; 

25 Others I see whom these surround — 

Smiling they hve, and call life pleasure; 
To me that cup has been dealt in another measure. 
Yet now despair itself is mild 
Even as the winds and waters are; 

30 I could lie down like a tired child, 

And weep away the life of care 
Which I have borne, and yet must bear, — ■ 
Till death hke sleep might steal on me, 
And I might feel in the warm air 

35 My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea 

Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. 

P. B. Shelley 



ccixxii] Book Fourth 301 

CCLXXI 

THE SCHOLAR 

My days among the Dead are past; 
Around me I behold, 
Where'er these casual eyes are cast, 
The mighty minds of old: 
5 My never-faihng friends are they, 

With whom I converse day by day. 

With them I take delight in weal 
And seek relief in woe; 
And while I understand and feel 
10 How much to them I owe, 

My cheeks have often been bedew'd 
With tears of thoughtful gratitude. 

]^Iy thoughts are with the Dead; with them 
I live in long-past years, 
15 Their \artues love, their faults condemn, 

Partake their hopes and fears, 
And from their lessons seek and find 
Instruction wdth an humble mind. 

My hopes are with the Dead; anon 
20 My place with them will be, 

And I wuth them shall travel on 
Through all Futurity; 
Yet leaving here a name, I trust, 
That will not perish in the dust. 

R. Southey 

CCLXXII 

THE MERMAID TAVERN 

Souls of Poets dead and gone, 
What Elysium have ye kno^^'n, 
xfappy field or mossy cavern, 
Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern? 
5 Have ye tippled drink more fine 

Than mine host's Canary wine? 



308 Palgrave's Golden Treasury ^cclxxii 

Or are fruits of Paradise 
Sweeter than those dainty pies 
Of venison? O generous food! 
Drest as though bold Robin Hood 
5 Would, with his Maid Marian, 

Sup and bowse from horn and can. 

I have heard that on a day 

Mine host's sign-board flew away 

Nobody knew whither, till 
10 An astrologer's old quill 

To a sheepskin gave the story, 

Said he saw you in your glory, 

Underneath a new^-old sign 

Sipping beverage divine, 
15 And pledging with contented smack 

The Mermaid in the Zodiac. 

Souls of Poets dead and gone, 
What Elysium have ye known, 
Happy field or mossy cavern, 
20 Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern? 

J. Keats 



THE PRIDE OF YOUTH 

Proud Maisie is in the wood, 
Walking so early; 

Sweet Robin sits on the bush. 
Singing so rarely. 

5 'Tell me, thou bonny bird. 

When shall I marry me? 
— 'When six braw gentlemen 
Kirkward shall carry ye.' 

'Who makes the bridal bed, 
10 Birdie, say truly?' 

— 'The gray-headed sexton 
That delves the grave duly. 



ccixxiv] Book Fourth 309 

'The glowworm o'er grave and stone 

Shall light thee steady; 
The owl from the steeple sing 

Welcome, proud lady.' 

Sir W. Scott 

CCLXXIV 

THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS 

One more Unfortunate 
Weary of breath 
Rashly importunate, 
Gone to her death! 
5 Take her up tenderly, 

Lift her with care; 
Fashion'd so slenderly, 
Young, and so fair! 

Look at her garments 
10 CHnging like cerements; 

W^hilst the wave constantly 
Drips from her clothing; 
Take her up instantly, 
Loving, not loatliing. 

15 Touch her not scornfully; 

Tliink of her mournfully, 

Gently and humanly; 

Not of the stains of her — 

All that remains of her 
20 Now is pure womanly. 

Make no deep scrutiny 
Into her mutiny 
Rash and undutiful: 
Past all dishonour, 
25 Death has left on her 

Only the beautiful. 

Still, for all slips of hers, 
One of Eve's family — 
Wipe those poor lips of hers 
30 Oozing so clammily. 



310 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclxxiv 

Loop up her tresses 
Escaped from the comb, 
Her fair auburn tresses; 
Whilst wonderment guesses 
5 Where was her home? 

Who was her father? 
Who was her mother? 
Had she a sister? 
Had she a brother? 
10 Or was there a dearer one 

Still, and a nearer one 
Yet, than all other? 

Alas! for the rarity 
Of Christian charity 
15 Under the sun! 

Oh! it was pitiful! 
Near a whole city full, 
Home she had none. 

Sisterly, brotherly, 
20 Fatherly, motherly 

Feehngs had changed: 

Love, by harsh evidence, 

Thrown from its eminence; 

Even God's providence 
25 Seeming estranged^ 

Where the lamps quiver 
So far in the river, 
With many a light 
From window and casement, 
30 From garret to basement, 

She stood, with amazement. 
Houseless by night. 

The bleak \\dnd of March 
Made her tremble and shiver 
35 But not the dark arch, 

Or the black flowing river: 
Mad from life's history, 



cclxxiv] Book Fourth 311 

Glad to death's mystery 
Swift to be hiirl'd — 
Any where, any where 
Out of the world! 

5 In she plunged boldly, 

No matter how coldly 
The rough river ran, — 
Over the brink of it, 
Picture, it — think of it, 
10 Dissolute Man! 

Lave in it, drink of it, 
Then, if you can! 

Take her up tenderly, 

Lift her with care; 
15 Fashion'd so slenderly, 

Young, and so fair! 

Ere her limbs frigidly 

Stiffen too rigidly, 

Decently, kindly, 
20 Smooth and compose them, 

And her eyes, close them, 

Staring so bhndly! 

Dreadfully staring 

Thro' muddy impurity, 
25 As when with the daring 

Last look of despairing 

Fix'd oh futurity. 

Perishing gloomily, 

Spurr'd by contumely, 
30 Cold inhumanity, 

Burning insanity. 

Into her rest. 

—Cross her hands humbly 

As if praying dumbly, 
35 Over her breast! 

Owning her weakness. 

Her evil behaviour. 

And leaving, with meekness, 

Her sins to her Saviour. 

T, Hood 



312 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclxxv 



ELEGY 

Oh snatch'd away in beauty's bloom! 
On thee shall press no ponderous tomb; 
But on thy turf shall roses rear 
Their leaves, the earliest of the year, 

5 And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom: 
And oft by yon blue gushing stream 
Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head, 
And feed deep thought with many a dream, 
And lingering pause and lightly tread; 

10 Fond wretch! as if her step disturb'd the dead I 
Away! we know that tears are vain, 
That Death nor heeds npr hears distress: 
Will this unteach us to complain? 
Or make one mourner weep the less? 

15 And thou, who tell'st me to forget, 
Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet. 

Lord Byron 



HESTER 

When maidens such as Hester die 
Their place ye may not well supply. 
Though ye among a thousand try 

With vain endeavour. 
5 A month or more hath she been dead, 

Yet cannot I by force be led 
To tiiink upon the wormy bed 

And her together. 
A springy motion in her gait, 
10 A rising step, did indicate 

Of pride and joy no common rate 

That flush'd her spirit: 
I know not by what name beside 
I shall it call: if 'twas not pride, 
15 It was a joy to that allied 

She did inherit. 



cclxxvii] Book Fourth 313 

Her parents held the Quaker rule, 
Which doth the human feeHng cool; 
But she was train'd in Nature's school. 
Nature had blest her. 
5 A waking eye, a prying mind, 

A heart that stirs, is hard to bind; 
A hawk's keen sight ye cannot blind, 
Ye could not Hester. 

My sprightly neighbour! gone before 
10 To that unknown and silent shore, 

Shall we not meet, as heretofore 

Some summer morning — 
When from thy cheerful eyes a ray 
Hath struck a bliss upon the day, 
15 A bliss that would not go away, 

A sweet fore-warning? 

C. Lamb 



CCLXXVII 

TO MARY 

If I had thought thou couldst have died, 

I might not weep for thee; 
But I forgot, when by thy side. 

That thou couldst inortal be: 
6 It never through my mind had past 

The time would e'er be o'er, 
And I on thee should look my last. 

And thou shouldst smile no more! 

And still upon that face I look, 
10 And think 'twill smile again; 

And still the thought I will not brook 

That I must look in vain! 
But when I speak — thou dost not say 
What thou ne'er left'st unsaid; 
15 And now I feel, as well I may, 

Sweet Mary! thou art dead! 



314 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclxxv^' 

If thou wouldst stay, e'en as thou art, 

All cold and all serene — 
I still might press thy silent heart, 

And where thy smiles have been. 
6 While e'en thy chill, bleak corse I have, 

Thou seemest still mine own; 
But there I lay thee in thy grave — 

And I am now alone! 
I do not think, where'er thou art, 
10 Thou hast forgotten me; 

And I, perhaps, may soothe this heart, 

In thinking too of thee: 
Yet there was round thee such a dawn 

Of light ne'er seen before, 
15 As fancy never could have drawn, 

And never can restore! 



C. Wolfe 



CCLXXVIII 

CORONACH 



He is gone on the mountain. 

He is lost to the forest, 
Like a summer-dried fountain. 

When our need was the sorest. 
5 The font reappearing 

From the raindrops shall borrow, 
But to us comes no cheering, 

To Duncan no morrow! 
The hand of the reaper 
10 Takes the ears that are hoary, 

But the voice of the weeper 

Wails inanhood in glory. 
The autumn winds rushing 

Waft the leaves that are searest, 
15 But our flower was in flushing 

When blighting was nearest. 
Fleet foot on the correi. 

Sage counsel in cumber. 
Red hand in the foray, 
20 How sound is thy slumber! 



cclxxx] Book Fourth 311 

Like the dew on the mountain, 

Like the foam on the river, 
Like the bubble on the fountain, 

Thou art gone; and for ever! 

Sir W. Scott 



THE DEATH BED 

We watch'd her breathing thro' the night. 
Her breathing soft and low, 

As in her breast the wave of life 
Kept heaving to and fro. 

5 So silently we seem'd to speak, 

So slowly moved about. 
As we had lent her half our powers 
To eke her living out. 

Our very hopes belied our fears, 
10 Our fears our hopes belied — 

We thought her dying when she slept. 
And sleeping when she died. 

For when the morn came dim and sad 
And chill with early showers, 
15 Her quiet eyelids closed — she had 

Another morn than ours. 

T. Hood 

CCLXXX 

AGNES 

I saw her in childhood — 

A bright, gentle tiling, 
Like the dawn of the mom, 

Or the dews of the spring: 
5 The daisies and hare-bells 

Her playmates all day; 
Herself as Hght-hearted 

And artless as they. 



316 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclxxx 

I saw her again — 

A fair girl of eighteen, 
Fresh ghttering with graces 

Of mind and of mien. 
5 Her speech was all music; 

Like moonlight she shone; 
The envy of m.any, 

The g'ory of one. 

Years, years fleeted over — 
10 I stood at her foot: 

The bud had grov>n blossom, 

The blossom was fruit. 
A dignified mother. 
Her infant she bore; 
15 And look'd, I tliought, fairer 

Than ever before. 

I saw her once more — 

'Twas the day that she died; 
Heaven's light was around her, 
20 And God at her side; 

No wants to distress her, 

No fears to appal— 
O then, I felt, then 
She was fairest of all! 

//. F. Lyte 



CCLXXXI 

ROSA BELLE 

O listen, listen, ladies gay! 

No haughty feat of arms I tell; 
Soft is the note, and sad the lay 

That mourns the lovely Rosabelle. 

'Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant creWi 
And, gentle ladye, deign to stay! 

Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch, 
Nor tempt th? «toiTny firth to-day. 



cclxxxi] Book Fourth 317 

'The blackening wave is edged with white; 

To inch and rock the sea-mews fly; 
The fishers have heard the Water-Sprite, 
Whose screams forebode that wreck is nigh. 

5 'Last night the gifted Seer did view 

A wet shroud swathed round ladye gay; 
Then stay thee, Fair, in Ravensheuch; 
Why cross the gloomy firth to-day? 

"Tis not because Lord Lindesay's heir 
10 To-night at Roslin leads the ball, 

But that my ladye-mother there 
Sits lonely in her castle-hall. 

'Tis not because the ring they ride, 
And Lindesay at the ring rides well, 
15 But that my sire the wine will chide 

If 'tis not fill'd by Rosabelle.' 

-O'er Roslin all that dreary night 

A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam; 
'Twas broader than the watch-fire's light, 
20 And redder than the bright moonbeam. 

It glared on Roslin's castled rock, 
It ruddied all the copse-wood glen; 

'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak. 
And seen from cavem'd Hawthornden. 

25 Seem'd all on fire that chapel proud 

Where Roslin's cliiefs uncoffin'd lie, 
Each Baron, for a sable shroud, 
Sheathed in his iron panoply. 

Seem'd all on fire within, around, 
30 Deep sacristy and altar's pale; 

Shone ever^^ pillar foliage-bound, 

And glimmer'd all the dead men's mail. 

Blazed battlement and pinnet high, 

Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair — 
35 So still they blaze, when fate is nigh 

The lordly line of high Saint Clair, 



318 Palgrave^s Golden Treasury [cclxxxi 

There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold — 
Lie buried within that proud chapelle; 

Each one the holy vault doth hold — 
But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle. 

5 And each Saint Clair was buried there, 

With candle, with book, and with knell; 
But the sea-caves rung, and the wld winds sung 
The dirge of lovely Rosabelle. 

Sir W. Scott 



CCLXXXII 

ON AN INFANT DYING AS SOON AS BORN 

I saw where in the shroud did lurk 
A curious frame of Nature's work; 
A flow'ret crushed in the bud, 
A nameless piece of Babyhood, 
5 Was in her cradle-cofhn lying; 

Extinct, with scarce the sense of dying: 
So soon to exchange the imprisoning womb 
For the darker closets of the tomb! 
She did but ope an eye, and put 

10 A clear beam forth, then straight up shut 
For the long dark: ne'er more to see 
Through glasses of mortality. 
Riddle of destiny, who can show 
What thy short \'isit meant, or know 

15 What thy errand here below? 
Shall we say, that Nature blind 
Check'd her hand, and changed her mind 
Just when she had exactly wrought 
A finish'd pattern without fault? 

20 Could she flag, or could she tire. 
Or lack'd she the Promethean fire 
(With her nine moons' long workings sicken'd) 
That should thy little hmbs have quicken'd? 
Limbs so firm, they seem'd to assure 

25 Life of health, and days mature: 
Woman's self in miniature! 



cclxxxii] Book Fourth 310 

Limbs so fair, they might supply 

(Themselves now but cold imagery) 

The sculptor to make Beauty by. 

Or did the stem-eyed Fate descry 
5 That babe or mother, one must die; 

So in mercy left the stock 

And cut the branch; to save the shock 

Of young years widow'd, and the pain 

When Single State comes back again 
10 To the lone man who, reft of wife, 

Thenceforward drags a maimed life? 

The economy of Heaven is dark, 

And wisest clerks have miss'd the mark 

Why human buds, hke this, should fall, 
15 More brief than fly ephemeral 

That has his day; while shrivell'd crones 

Stiffen with age to stocks and stones; 

And crabbed use the conscience sears 

In sinners of an hundred years. 
20 — Mother's prattle, mother's kiss. 

Baby fond, thou ne'er wilt miss: 

Rites, which custom does impose, 

Silver bells, and baby clothes; 

Coral redder than those lips 
25 Which pale death did late eclipse; 

Music framed for infants' glee. 

Whistle never tuned for thee; 

Though thou want'st not, thou shalt have them, 

Loving hearts were they which gave them. 
30 Let not one be missing; nurse. 

See them laid upon the hearse 

Of infant slain by doom perverse. 

Why should kings and nobles have 

Pictured tropliies to their grave, 
35 And we, churls, to thee deny 

Thy pretty toys with thee to lie — 

A more harmless vanity? 

C. Lamb 



320 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclxxxiii 

CCLXXXIII 

IN MEMORIAM 

A child's a plaything for an hour; 

Its pretty tricks we try 
For that or for a longer space, — 
Then tire, and lay it by. 
5 But I knew one that to itself 

All seasons could control; 
That would have mock'd the sense of pain 

Out of a grieved soul. 
Thou straggler into loving arms, 
10 Young climber up of knees, 

When I forget thy thousand ways 
Then life and all shall cease! 

M. Lamb 

CCLXXXIV 

THE AFFLICTION OF MARGARET 

Where art thou, my beloved Son, 

Where art thou, worse to me than dead? 

Oh find me, prosperous or undone! 

Or if the grave be now thy bed, 
5 Why am I ignorant of the same 

That I may rest; and neither blame 

Nor sorrow may attend thy name? 

Seven years, alas! to have received 

No tidings of an only child — 
10 To have despair'd, have hoped, believed, 

And been for evermore beguiled, — 

Sometimes with thoughts of very bliss! 

I catch at them, and then I miss; 

Was ever darkness like to this? 
15 He was among the prime in worth. 

An object beauteous to behold; 

Well born, well bred; I sent him forth 

Ingenuous, innocent, and bold: 

If things ensued that wanted grace 
20 As hath been said, they were not base; 

And never blush was on my face. 



cclxxxiv] Book Fourth 321 

Ah! little doth the young-one dream 
When full of play and childish cares, 
^Vhat power is in liis wildest scream 
Heard by his mother unawares! 
5 He knows it not, he cannot guecs; 

Years to a mother bring distress; 
But do not make her love the less. 

Neglect me! no, I suffer'd long 
From that ill thought; and being blind 
10 Said 'Pride shall help me in my wrong: 

Kind mother have 1 been, as kind 
As ever breathed:' and that is true; 
I've wet my path \\Ttli tears like dew, 
Weeping for iiim when no one knew. 

15 My Son, if thou be humbled, poor, 

Hopeless of honour and of gain. 

Oh! do not dread thy mother's door; 

Think not of me with grief and pain: 

I now can see with better eyes; 
20 And worldly grandeur I despise 

And fortune with her gifts and lies. 

Alas! the fowls of heaven have wings. 
And blasts of heaven will aid their flight; 
They mount — how short a voyage brings 
25 The wanderers back to their delight! 

Chains tie us down by land and sea; 
And wishes, vain as mine, may be 
All that is left to comfort thee. 

Perhaps some dungeon hears thee groan 
30 Maim'd, mangled by inhuman men; 

Or thou upon a desert thrown 

Inheritest the lion's den; 

Or hast been summon 'd to the deep 

Thou, thou, and all thy mates, to keep 
35 An incommunicable sleep. 

I look for ghosts: but none will force 
Their way to me; 'tis falsely said 
That there was ever intercourse 
Between the livip.^ and the dead; 



322 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclxxxiv 

For surely then I should have sight 
Of him I wait for day and night 
With love and longings infinite. 

My apprehensions come in crowds; 
5 I dread the rustling of the grass; 

The very shadows of the clouds 
Have power to shake me as they pass: 
I question tilings, and do not find 
One that will answer to my mind; 
10 And all the world appears unkind. 

Beyond participation lie 
My troubles, and beyond relief: 
If any chance to heave a sigh 
They pity me, and not my grief. 
15 Then come to me, my Son, or send 

Some tidings that my woes may end! 
I have no other earthly friend. 

W. Wordsworth 

CCLXXXV 

HUNTING SONG 

Waken, lords and ladies gay, 
On the mountain dawns the day; 
All the jolly chase is here 
With hawk and horse and hunting-spear; 
5 Hounds are in their couples yelling, 

Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling, 
Merrily inerrily mingle they, 
'Waken, lords and ladies gay.* 

Waken, lords and ladies gay, 
10 The mist has left the mountain gray, 

Springlets in the dawn are steaming. 
Diamonds on the brake are gleaming; 
And foresters have busy been 
To track the buck in thicket green; 
15 Now we come to chant our lay 

'Waken, lords and ladies gay.' 



cclxxxvi] Book Fourth 323 

Waken, lords and ladies gay, 
To the greenwood haste away; 
We can show you where he lies, 
Fleet of foot and tall of size; 
5 We can show the marks he made 

When 'gainst the oak his antlers fray'd; 
You shall see him brought to bay; 
'Waken, lords and ladies gay.' 

Louder, louder chant the lay 
10 Waken, lords and ladies gay! 

Tell them youth and mirth and glee 

Run a course as well as we; 

Time, stem huntsman! who can baulk. 

Stanch as hound and fleet as hawk; 
15 Think of this, and rise with day, 

Gentle lords and ladies gay! 

Sir W. Scott 

CCLXXXVI 

TO THE SKYLARK 

Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky! 
Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound? 
Or while the wings aspire, are heart and eye 
Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground? 
5 Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will. 
Those quivering wings composed, that music still! 

To the last point of vision, and beyond 
Mount, daring warbler! — that love-prompted strain 
— 'Twixt thee and thine a never-failing bond — 
10 Thrills not the less the bosom of the plain: 
/^xei might 'st thou seem, proud privilege! to sing 
All independent of the leafy Spring. 

Leave to the nightingale her shady wood; 
A privacy of glorious light is thine, 
15 Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood 
Of harmony, with instinct more divine; 
Type of the wise, who soar, but never roam — 
True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home. 

T^'. Wordsworth 



324 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclxxxvii 

CCLXXXVII 

TO A SKYLARK 

Hail to thee, blithe Spirit! 

Bird thou never wert, 
That from heaven, or near it 

Pourest thy full heart 
5 In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. 

Higher still and higher 

From the earth thou springest. 
Like a cloud of fire, 

The blue deep thou wingest, 
10 And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest. 

In the golden lightning 

Of the sunken sun 
O'er which clouds are brightening. 

Thou dost float and run, 
15 Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun. 

The pale purple even 

Melts around thy flight; 
Like a star of heaven 

In the broad dayhght 
20 Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight: 

Keen as are the arrows 

Of that silver sphere. 
Whose intense lamp narrows 

In the white dawn clear 
25 Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there. 

All the earth and air 

With thy voice is loud, 
As, when night is bare, 
From one lonely cloud 
30 The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is over- 
flowed. 
What thou art we know not; 

What is most like thee? 
From rainbow clouds there flow not 
Drops so bright to see 
35 As from thy presence showers a rain of melody; — 



cclxxxvii] Bool: Fourth 325 

Like a poet hidden 

In the hght of thought, 
Singing hynms unbidden^ 

Till the world is wrought 
6 To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not: 

Like a liigh-bom maiden 

In a palace tower, 
Soothing her love-laden 
Soul in secret hour 
10 With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower: 

Like a glow-wonn golden 

In a dell of dew, 
Scattering unbeholden 
Its aerial hue 
15 Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from 
the view: 

Like a rose embower'd 

In its own green leaves, 
By warm winds deflower'd, 
Till the scent it gives 
20 Makes faint with too much sweet these hea^'y-winged 
thieves. 

Sound of vernal showers 

On the twinkling grass, 
Rain-awaken'd flowers, 
All that ever was 
25 Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass 

Teach us, sprite or bird, 
. What sweet thoughts are thine: 
I have never heard 
Praise of love or wine 
30 That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine. 

Chorus hymeneal 

Or triumphal chaunt 
Match'd with thine, would be all 

But an empty vaunt — 
35 A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want. 



326 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclxxxvii 

What objects are the fountains 

Of thy happy strain? 
What fields, or waves, or mountains? 

What shapes of sky or plain? 
5 What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain? 

With thy clear keen joyance 

Languor cannot be: 
Shadow of annoyance 

Never came near thee: 
10 Thou lovest; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety. 

Waking or asleep 

Thou of death must deem 
Things more true and deep 

Than we mortals dream, 
15 Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream? 

We look before arid after, 

And pine for what is not: 
Our sincerest laughter 

With some pain is fraught; 
20 Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest 
thought. 

Yet if we could scorn 

Hate, and pride, and fear; 
If we were things born 

Not to shed a tear, 
25 I know not how thy joy we ever should come near. 

Better than all measures 

Of delightful sound, 
Better than all treasures , 

That in books are found, 
30 Thy skill to poet were, thou scomer of the ground 1 

Teach me half the gladness 

That thy brain must know, 
Such harmonious madness 
From my lips would flow, 
35 The world should listen then, as I am listening now! 

P. B. Shelley 



<clxxxviii] Book Fourth *^27 

CCLXXXVIII 

THE GREEN LINNET 

Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed 
Their snow-wliite blossoms on my head, 
With brightest sunsliine round me spread 
Of Spring's unclouded weather, 
6 In tliis sequester'd nook how sweet 

To sit upon my orchard-seat! 
And flowers and birds once more to greet. 
My last year's friends together. 

One have I mark'd, the happiest guest 
to In all this covert of the blest: 

Hail to Thee, far above the rest 

In joy of voice and pinion! 

Thou, Linnet! in thy green array 

Presiding Spirit here to-day 
/5 Dost lead the revels of the May; 

And this is thy dominion. 

While birds, and butterflies, and flowers, 
Make all one band of paramours. 
Thou, ranging up and down the bowers, 
20 Art sole in thy employment; 

A Life, a Presence like the air. 
Scattering thy gladness without care, 
Too blest ^^dth any one to pair; 
Thyself thy owti enjoyment. 

25 Amid yon tuft of hazel trees 

That twinkle to the gusty breeze, 

Behold him perch'd in ecstasies 

Yet seeming still to hover; 

There I where the flutter of his wings 
30 Upon his back and body flings 

Shadows and sunny glimmerings, 

That cover him all over. 

My dazzled sight he oft, deceives — 
A brother of the dancing leaves; 
35 Then flits, and from the cottage-eaves 

Pours forth his song in gushes; 



328 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclxxxviii 

As if by that exulting strain 
He mock'd and treated with disdain 
The voiceless Form he chose to feign, 
"While fluttering in the bushes. 

W. Wordsworth 

CCLXXXIX 

TO THE CUCKOO 

blithe new-comer! I have heard, 

1 hear thee and rejoice: 

Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird, 
• Or but a wandering Voice? 

•5 While I am lying on the grass 

Thy twofold shout I hear; 
From hill to hill it seems to pass, 
At once far off and near. 

Though babbling only to the vale 
10 Of sunshine and of flowers, 

Thou bringest unto me a tale 
Of visionary hours. 

Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring! 
Even yet thou art to me 
15 No bird, but an invisible thing, 

A voice, a mystery; 

The same whom in my school-boy days 

1 listen'd to; that Cry 

Wliich made me look a thousand ways 
20 In bush, and tree, and sky. 

To seek thee did I often rove 
Through woods and on the green; 
And thou wert still a hope, a love; 
Still long'd for, never seen! 

25 And I can listen to thee yet; 

Can lie upon the plain 
And listen, till I do beget 
That golden time again. 



ccxc] Book Fourth 329 

O blessed Bird! the earth we pace 
Again appears to be 
An unsubstantial, faery place, 
That is fit home for Thee! 

W. Wordsworth 

ccxc 

ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE 

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains 

My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, 
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains 
One minute past, and Lethe- wards had sunk: 
5 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot. 

But being too happy in thine happiness, — 
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, 
In some melodious plot 
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, 
10 Singest of summer in full-throated ease, 

O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been 

Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth, 
Tasting of Flora and the country green, 

Dance, and Provencal song, and sunburnt mirth I 
15 O for a beaker full of the warm South, 

Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, 
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, 
And purple-stained mouth; 
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, 
20 And \^'itll thee fade away into the forest dim: 

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget 

What thou among the leaves hast never known, 
The weariness, the fever, and the fret 

Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; 
25 Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs. 

Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies 
Where but to tliink is to be full of sorrow 
And leaden-eyed despairs; 
Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, 
30 Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow. 



330 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxc 

Away! away! for I will fly to thee, 

Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, 
But on the viewless wungs of Poesy, 

Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: 
5 Already with thee! tender is the night, 

And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, 

Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays; 

But here there is no light, 

Save what from heaven is with tlie breezes blown 

10 Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy 

ways. 

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet. 

Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, 
But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet 
Wherewith the seasonable month endows 
15 The grass, the tliicket, and the fruit-tree wild; 
White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine; 
Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves; 
And mid-May's eldest child, 
The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, 
20 The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves. 

Darkling I listen; and for many a time 

I have been half in love with easeful Death, 
Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, 
To take into the air my quiet breath; 
25 Now more than ever seems it rich to die, 

To cease upon the midnight with no pain, 
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad 
In such an ecstasy! 
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain — 
30 To thy high requiem become a sod. 

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! 

No hungry generations tread thee down; 
The voice I hear this passing night was heard 
In ancient days by emperor and clown: 
35 Perhaps the self-same song that found a path 

Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for 
home, 



ecxci] Book Fourth 331 

She stood in tears amid the alien com; 
The same that oft-times hath 
Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam 
Of perilous seas, in faery lani^s forlorn. 

5 Forlorn! the very word is hke a bell 

To toll me back from thee to my sole self I 
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well 
As she is famed to do, deceiving elf. 
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades 
10 Past the near meadows, over the still stream, 
Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep 
In the next valley-glades: 
Was it a vision, or a waking dream? 

Fled is that music: — Do I wake or sleep? 

J. Keats 



ccxci 

UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE, 
SEPT. S, 1802 

Earth has not anything to show more fair: 
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by 
A sight so touching in its majesty: 
This City now doth like a garment wear 

5 The beauty of the morning: silent, bare, 

Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie 
Open unto the fields, and to the sky, — 
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. 
Never did sun more beautifully steep 

10 In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill; 
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! 
The river gndeth at his own sweet will: 
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; 
And all that mighty heart is lying still! 

W. Wordsworth 



332 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxcii 



To one who has been long in city pent, 
'Tis very sweet to look into the fair 
And open face of heaven, — to breathe a prayer 
Full in the smile of the blue finnament. 
5 Who is more happy, when, with heart's content. 
Fatigued he sinks into some pleasant lair 
Of wavy grass, and reads a debonair 
And gentle tale of love and languishment ? 
Returning home at evening, with an ear 
10 Catching the notes of Philomel, — an eye 
Watching the sailing cloudlet's bright career, 
Re mourns that day so soon has glided by: 
E'en like the passage of an angel's tear 
That falls through the clear ether silently. 

J. Keats 



CCXCIII 

OZYMANDIAS OF EGYPT 

I met a traveller from an antique land 
Who said. Two vast and trunkless legs of stone 
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand, 
Half sunk, a shatter 'd visage lies, whose frown 
5 And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command 
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read 
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things, 
The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed; 
And on the pedestal these words appear: 
10 'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: 
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!' 
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay 
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, 
The lone and level sands stretch far away. 

P. B. Shelley 



ccxcv] Book Fourth 333 



ccxciv 

COMPOSED AT NEIDPATH CASTLE, THE 
PROPERTY OF LORD QUEENSBERRY, 

1803 

Degenerate Douglas! oh, the unworthy lord! 
Whom mere despite of heart could so far please 
And love of havoc, (for with such disease 
Fame taxes him,) that he could send forth word 

5 To level with the dust a noble horde, 
A brotherhood of venerable trees. 
Leaving an ancient dome, and towers like these, 
Beggar'd and outraged! — Many hearts deplored 
The fate of those old trees; and oft with pain 

10 The traveller at this day will stop and gaze 

On wrongs, which Nature scarcely seems to heed: 
For shelter'd places, bosoms, nooks, and bays, 
And the pure mountains, and the gentle Tweed, 
And the green silent pastures, yet remain. 

W. Wordsworth 



THE BEECH TREE'S PETITION 

O leave this barren spot to me! 

Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree! 

Though bush or floweret never grow 

My dark un warming shade below; 
5 Nor summer bud perfume the dew 

Of rosy blush, or yellow hue; 

Nor fruits of autumn, blossom-born, 

My green and glossy leaves adorn; 

Nor murmuring tribes from me derive 
10 Th' ambrosial amber of the hive; 

Yet leave this barren spot to me: 

Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree! 



334 Talgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxcv 

Thrice twenty summers I have seen 

The sky grow bright, the forest green; 

And many a wintry wind have stood 

In bloomless, fruitless solitude, 
5 Since childhood in my pleasant bower 

First spent its sweet and sportive hour; 

Since youthful lovers in my shade 

Their vows of truth and rapture made, 

And on my trunk 's surviving frame 
10 Carved many a long-forgotten name. 

Oh! by the sighs of gentle sound, 

First breathed upon this sacred ground; 

By all that Love has whisper 'd here. 

Or Beauty heard with ravish 'd ear; 
15 As Love's own altar honour me: 

Spare, woodman, spare the beeehen tree! 

T. Campbell 



CCXCVI 

ADMONITION TO A TEAVELLEB 

Yes, there is holy pleasure in thine eye! 
— The lovely Cottage in the guardian nook 
Hath stirr'd thee deeply; with its own dear brook, 
Its own small pasture, almost its own sky! 
5 But covet not the abode; forbear to sigh 
As many do, repining while they look; 
Intruders — who would tear from Nature 's book 
This precious leaf with harsh impiety. 
— Think what the home must be if it were thine, 
10 Even thine, though few thy wants! — Eoof, window, 
door. 
The very flowers are sacred to the Poor, 
The roses to the porch which they entwine: 
Yea, all that now enchants thee, from the day 
On which it should be touch 'd, would melt away! 

W. Wordsworth 



coi£Cvii] Book Fourth 335 



TO THE HIGHLAND GIRL OF 
INVERSNEYDE 

Sweet Highland Girl, a very shower 
Of beauty is thy earthly dower! 
Twice seven consenting years have shed 
Their utmost bounty on thy head: 
5 And these gray rocks, that household lawn, 

Those trees — a veil just half withdrawn, 
This fall of watsr that doth make 
A murmur near the silent lake, 
Tliis little bay, a quiet road 

10 That holds in shelter thy abode: 

In truth together ye do seem 
Like something fasliion'd in a dream; 
Such forms as from their covert peep 
When earthly cares are laid asleep! 

15 But O fair Creature! in the Hght 

Of common day, so heavenly bright 
I bless Thee, Vision as thou art, 
I bless thee with a human heart: 
God shield thee to thy latest years! 

20 Thee neither know I nor thy peers: 

And yet my eyes are fill'd with tears. 

With earnest feeling I shall pray 
For thee when I am far away; 
For never saw I mien or face 

25 In wliich more plainly I could trace 

Benignity and home-bred sense 
Ripening in perfect innocence. 
Here scattered, like a random seed, 
Remote from men. Thou dost not need 

30 The embarrass'd look of shy distress, 

And maidenly shame facedness: 
Thou wear'st upon thy forehead clear 
The freedom of a Mountaineer: 
A face with gladness overspread; 

35 Soft smiles, by human kindness bred; 



336 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxcvii 

And seemliness complete, that sways 

Thy courtesies, about thee plays; 

With no restraint, but such as springs 

From quick and eager visitings 
5 Of thoughts that lie beyond the reach 

Of thy few words of EngHsh speech: 

A bondage sweetly brook'd, a strife 

That gives thy gestures grace and hfe! 

So have I, not unmoved in mind, 
10 Seen birds of tempest-loving kind — ■ 

Thus beating up against the wind. 

What hand but would a garland cull 
For thee who art so beautiful? 

happy pleasure! here to dwell 
15 Beside thee in some heathy dell; 

Adopt your homely ways, and dress, 

A shepherd, thou a shepherdess! 

But I could frame a wish for thee 

More like a grave reality: 
20 Thou art to me but as a wave 

Of the wild sea: and I would have 

Some claim upon thee, if I could. 

Though but of common neighbourhood. 

What joy to hear thee, and to see! 
25 Thy elder brother I would be, 

Thy father — anything to thee. 

Now thanks to Heaven! that of its grace 
Hath led me to this lonely place: 
Joy have I had; and going hence 
30 I bear away my recompence. 

In spots like these it is we prize 
Our Memory, feel that she hath eyes: 
Then why should I be loth to stir? 

1 feel tliis place was made for her; 
35 To give new pleasure like the past, 

Continued long as life shall last. 
Nor am I loth, though pleased at heart, 
Sweet Highland Girl! from thee to part; 
For I, methinks, till I grow old 



ccxcviii] Book Fourth 337 

As fair before me shall behold 
As I do now, the cabin small, 
The lake, the bay, the waterfall; 
And Thee, the Spirit of them all! 

W. Wordsworth 



CCXCVIII 

THE REAPER 

Behold her, single in the field, 
Yon sohtary Highland Lass! 
Reaping and singing by herself; 
Stop here, or gently pass! 
6 Alone she cuts and binds the grain, 

And sings a melancholy strain; 

listen! for the vale profound 
Is overflowing with the sound. 

No nightingale did ever chaunt 
10 More welcome notes to weary bands 

Of travellers in some shady haunt, 

Among Arabian sands: 

A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard 

In spring-time from the cuckoo-bird 
15 Breaking the silence of the seas 

Among the farthest Hebrides. 

Will no one tell me what she sings? 
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow 
For old, unhappy, far-off things, 
20 And battles long ago: 

Or is it some more humble lay. 
Familiar matter of to-day? 
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain. 
That has been, and may be again! 

25 Whatever the theme, the maiden sang 

As if her song could have no ending; 

1 saw her singing at her work. 
And o'er the sickle bending; — 
I listen'd, motionless and still; 



338 Palgrave's Golden Treasury Fccxcviii 

And, as I mounted up the liill, 
The music in my heart I bore 
Long after it was heard no more. 

W. Wordsworth 



ccxcix 

THE REVERIE OF POOR SUSAN 

At the comer of Wood Street, when daylight appears. 
Hangs a Thrush tlrnt sings loud, it has sung for three 

years : 
Poor Susan has pass'd by the spot, and has heard 
In the silence of morning the song of the bird. 

5 'Tis a note of enchantment; what ails her? She sees 
A mountain ascending, a vision of trees; 
Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide, 
And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside. 

Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale 
10 Down which she so often has tripp'd \\ith her pail; 
And a single small cottage, a nest Hke a dove's, 
The one only dwelling on earth that she loves. 

She looks, and her heart is in heaven: but they fade. 
The mist and the river, the hill and the shade; 
15 The stream will not flow, and the hill will not rise, 
And the colours have all pass'd away from her eyes I 

W. Wordsworth 

ccc 

TO A LADY, WITH A GUITAR 

Ariel to Miranda: — ^Take 
This slave of music, for the sake 
Of him, who is the slave of thee; 
And teach it all the harmony 
B In which thou canst, and only thou, 

Make the delighted spirit glow, 
Till joy denies itself again 
And, too intense, is tum'd to pain. 



ccc] Book Fourth 339 

For by permission and command 
Of thine own Prince Ferdinand, 
Poor Ariel sends this silent token 
Of more than ever can be spoken; 
5 Your guardian spirit, Ariel, who 

From life to hfe must still pursue 
Your happiness, for thus alone 
Can Ariel ever find his own. 
From Prospero's enchanted cell, 
10 As the mighty verses tell. 

To the throne of Naples he 
Lit you o'er the trackless sea, 
Flitting on, your prow before, 
Like a hving meteor. 
15 When you die, the silent Moon 

In her interlunar swoon 
Is not sadder in her cell 
Than deserted Ariel: — 
When you Hve again on earth, 
20 Like an unseen Star of birth 

Ariel guides you o'er the sea 
Of Hfe from your nativity: — 
Many changes have been run 
Since Ferdinand and you begvm 
26 Your course of love, and Ariel still 

Has track'd your steps and served your will. 
Now in humbler, happier lot, 
This is all remember'd not; 
And now, alas! the poor Sprite is 
30 Imprison 'd for some fault of his 

In a body like a grave — 
From you he only dares to crave, 
For his service and his sorrow 
A smile to day, a song to morrow. 

35 The artist who this idol wTought 

To echo all harmonious thought, 

Fell'd a tree, while on the steep 

The woods were in their winter sleep, 

Rock'd in that repose divine 
40 On the wind-swept Apennine; 

And dreaming, some of Autumn past. 



340 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [CCC 

And some of Spring approacliing fast, 

And some of April buds and showers, 

And some of songs in July bowers, 

And all of love: And so this tree, — 
5 Oh that such our death may be! — 

Died in sleep, and felt no pain, 

To live in happier form again: 

From which, beneath heaven's fairest star. 

The artist wrought tliis loved Guitar; 
10 And taught it justly to reply 

To all who question skilfully 

In language gentle as thine own; 

Whispering in enamovir'd tone 

Sweet oracles of woods and dells, 
15 And summer winds in sylvan cells: 

• — For it had learnt all harmonies 

Of the plains and of the skies, 

Of the forests and the mountains, 

And the many- voiced fountains; 
20 The clearest echoes of the liills, 

The softest notes of falling rills, 

The melodies of birds and bees, 

The murmuring of summer seas. 

And pattering rain, and breathing dew, 
25 And airs of evening; and it knew 

That seldom-heard mysterious sound 

Which, driven on its diurnal round, 

As it floats through boundless day, 

Our world enkindles on its way: 
30 — All this it knows, but will not tell 

To those who cannot question well 

The Spirit that inhabits it; 

It talks according to the wit 

Of its companions; and no more 
65 Is heard than has been felt before 

By those who tempt it to betray 

These secrets of an elder day. 

But, sweetly as its answers will 

Flatter hands of perfect skill, 
40 It keeps itr, highest holiest tone 

For our beloved Friend alone. 

P. B. ShelJev 



cccii] Book Fourth 341 

ccci 
THE DAFFODILS 

I wander'd lonely as a cloud 

That floats on high o'er vales and hills, 

When all at once I saw a crowd, 

A host of golden daffodils, 
6 Beside the lake, beneath the trees. 

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. 

Continuous as the stars that sliine 

And twinkle on the milky way, 

They stretch'd in never-ending line 
10 Along the margin of a bay: 

Ten thousand saw I at a glance 

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. 

The waves beside them danced, but they 

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: — 
15 A Poet could not but be gay 

In such a jocund company! 

I gazed — and gazed — but httle thought 

What wealth the show to me had brought; 

For oft, when on my couch I He 
20 In vacant or in pensive mood, 

They flash upon that inward eye 

Which is the bhss of solitude; 

And then my heart with pleasure fills, 

And dances with the daffodils. 

W. Wordsworth 

CCCII 

TO THE DAISY 

With little here to do or see 

Of things that in the great world be, 

Sweet Daisy! oft I talk to thee 

For thou art worthy, 
6 Thou unassuming Common-place 

Of Nature, with that homely face, 
And yet with something of a grace 

Which Love makes for thee! 



342 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccii 

Oft on the dappled turf at ease 
I sit and play with similes, 
Loose types of things through all degrees. 
Thoughts of thy raising; 
5 And many a fond and idle name 

I give to thee, for praise or blame 
As is the humour of the game, 

While I am gazing, 
A nun demure, of lowly port; 
to Or sprightly maiden, of Love's court, 

In thy simplicity the sport 

Of all temptations; 
A queen in crown of rubies drest; 
A starveling in a scanty vest; 
15 Are all, as seems to suit thee best, , 

Thy appellations. 
A little Cyclops, with one eye 
Staring to threaten and defy, 
That thought comes next — and instantly 
20 The freak is over, 

The shape will vanish, and behold' 
A silver shield with boss of gold 
That spreads itself, some faery bold 
In fight to cover. 
25 I see thee glittering from afar — 

And then thou art a pretty star, 
Not quite so fair as many are 

In heaven above thee! 
Yet like a star with glittering crest, 
30 Self-poised in air thou seem'st to rest; — 

May peace come never to his nest 

Who shall reprove thee! 
Sweet Flower! for by that name at last 
When all my reveries are past 
35 I call thee, and to that cleave fast, 

Sweet silent Creature! 
That breath'st with me in sun and air, 
Do thou, as thou art wont, repair 
My heart with gladness, and a share 
40 Of thy meek nature! 

W. Wordsworth 



ccciii] Book Fourth 343 

CCCIII 

ODE TO AUTUMN 

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, 
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; 
Conspiring with liim how to load and bless 
With fruit the \ines that round the thatch-eaves run. 
6 To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, 
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; 
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells 
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more. 
And still more, later flowers for the beeS; 
10 Until they think warm days will never cease; 
For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cei'il&. 

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store V 
Some.times whoever seeks abroad may fin.d 
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, 

15 Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; 
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, 
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, wliile thy hook 
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers: 
Aiid sometimes hke a gleaner thou dost keep 

20 Steady thy laden head across a brook; 
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look. 
Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours. 

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? 

Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, — ■ 
25 While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day 

And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; 

Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn 

Among the river-sallows, borne aloft 

Or sinking as the .light wind lives or dies; 
30 And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; 

Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft 

The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft; 

And gathering swallows twitter in the skies. 

J. Keats 



344 Palgrave's Golden Treasury ^ccci^ 

ccciv 

ODE TO WINTER 

Germany, December, 1800 

When first the fiery-mantled Sun 
His heavenly race began to run, 
Round the earth and ocean blue 
His children four the Seasons flew. 
5 First, in green apparel dancing, 
The young Spring smiled with angel-grace; 

Rosy Summer next advancing, 
Rush'd into her sire's embrace — 
Her bright-hair'd sire, who bade her keep 
10 For ever nearest to his smiles, 
On Calpe's olive-shaded steep 

Or India's citron-cover'd isles: 
More remote, and buxom-brown, 

The Queen of vintage bow'd before his throne; 
15 A rich pomegranate gemm'd her crown, 

A ripe sheaf bound her zone. 

But howling Winter fled afar 
To hills that prop the polar star; 
And loves on deer-borne car to ride 
20 With barren darkness by his side. 
Round the shore where loud Lofoden 

Whirls to death the roaring whale, 
Round the hall where Runic Odin 

Howls his war-song to the gale; 
25 Save when adown the ravaged globe 

He travels on his native storm, 
Deflowering Nature's grassy robe 

And trampling on her faded form: — 
Till light's returning Lord assume 
30 The shaft that drives him to his polar field. 
Of power to pierce his raven plume 

And crystal-cover'd sliield. 

Oh, sire of storms! whose savage ear 
The Lapland drum delights to hear, 
35 When Frenzy with her blood-shot eye 
Implores thy dreadful deity — 



cccv] Book Fourth 345 

Archangel. Power of desolation I 

Fast descending as thou art, 
Say, hath mortal invocation 

Spells to touch thy stony heart? 
5 Then, sullen Winter! hear my prayei; 
And gently rule the ruin'd yea,r; 
Nor chill the wanderer's bosom bare 
Nor freeze the wretch's falling tear: 
To shuddering Want's unman tied bed 
10 Thy horror-breathing agues cease to lend, 
And gently on the orphan head 

Of Innocence descend. 
But chiefly spare, O king of clouds! 
The sailor on his airy shrouds, 
15 When wrecks and beacons strew the steep. 
And spectres walk along the deep. 
Milder yet thy snowy breezes 

Pour on yonder tented shores, 
Where the Rhine's broad billow freezes, 
20 Or the dark-brown Danube roars 
Oh, winds of Winter! hst ye there 

To many a deep and dying groan? 
Or start, ye demons of the midnight air 

At shrieks and thunders louder than ycur own? 
25 Alas I ev'n your unhallow'd breath 
May spare the victim fallen low; 
But Man will ask no truce to death, — 
No bounds to human woe. 

T. Campbeli 



YARROW UNVISITED 
1808 
From Stirling Castle we had seen 
The mazy Forth unravell'd. 
Had trod the banks of Clyde and Tay 
And with the Tweed had travell'dj 
And when we came to Clovenford, 
Then said my 'winsome Marrow,' 
'Whatever betide, we'll turn aside. 
And see the Braes of Yarrow.' 



346 Palgrave's Golden Treasury cccvJ 

'Let Yarrow folk, frae Selkirk town, 
Who have been buying, seUing, 
Go back to Yarrow, 'tis their own, 
Each maiden to her dwelling! 
6 On Yarrow's banks let herons feed, 
Hares couch, and rabbits burrow; 
But we will downward with the Tweed, 
Nor turn aside to Yarrow. 

'There's Gala Water, Leader Haughs, 
10 Both lying right before us; 

And Dryburgh, where with chiming Tweed 

The lint whites sing in chorus; 

There's pleasant Tiviot-dale, a land 

Made bUthe with plough and harrow: 
15 Why throw away a needful day 

To go in search of Yarrow? 

'What's Yarrow but a river bare 
That glides the dark hills under? 
There are a thousand such elsewhere 
20 As worthy of your wonder.' 

— -Strange words they seem'd of slight and scorn; 
My True-love sigh'd for sorrow, 
And look'd me in the face, to think 
I thus could speak of Yarrow! 

25 'O green,' said I, 'are Yarrow's holms, 

And sweet is Yarrow flowing! 

Fair hangs the apple frae the rock, 

But we will leave it growing. 

O'er hilly path and open strath 
30 We'll wander Scotland thorough; 

But, though so near, we will not turn 

Into the dale of Yarrow. 

'Let beeves and home-bred kine partake 

The sweets of Burn-mill meadow; 
35 The swan on still Saint Mary's Lake 

Float double, swan and shadow! 

We will not see them; will not go 

To-day, nor yet to-morrow; 

Enough if in our hearts we know 
40 There's such a place as Yarrow. 



Dccvi] Book Fourth 347 

*Be Yarrow stream unseen, unknown 1 . 
•It must, or we shall rue it: 
We have a vision of our own, 
Ah! why should we undo it? 
The treasured dreams of times long past, 
We'll keep them, winsome Marrow! 
For when we're there, although 'tis fair, 
'T^^ill be another Yarrow! 

*If Care with freezing years should come 
10 And wandering seem but folly, — 

Should we be loth to stir from home, 

And yet be melancholy; 

Should life be dull, and spirits low, 

'Twill soothe us in our sorrow 
15 That earth has something yet to show. 

The bonny holms of Yarrow!' 

W. Wordsworth 



cccvi 

YARROW VISITED 

September, 1814 

And is tliis — Yarrow? — This the stream 
Of wliich my fancy cherish'd 
So faithfully, a waking dream, 
An image that hath perish'd? 
5 O that some minstrel's harp were near 

To utter notes of gladness 
And chase this silence from the air, 
That fills my heart with sadness! 

Yet why? — a silvery current flows 
10 With uncontroll'd meande rings; 

Nor have these eyes by greener hills 

Been soothed, in all my wanderings. 

And, through her depths, Saint Mary's Lake 

Is visibly dehghted; 
15 For not a feature of those hills 

Is in the mirror slighted. 



348 Palgrave^s Golden Treasury [cccvi 

A blue sky bends o'er Yarrow Vale, 
Save where that pearly wliiteness 
Is round the rising sun diffused, 
A tender hazy brightness; 
5 Mild dawn of promise! that excludes 

All profitless dejection; 
Though not unwilling here to admit 
A pensive recollection. 

"Where was it that the famous Flower 

19 Of Yarrow Vale lay bleeding? 

His bed perchance was yon smooth mound 
On which the herd is feeding: 
And haply from this crystal pool, 
Now peaceful as the morning, 
15 The Water-wraith ascended thrice, 

And gave his doleful warning. 

Delicious is the lay that sings 

The haunts of happy lovers. 

The path that leads them to the grove, 

20 The leafy grove that covers: 
And pity sanctifies the verse 
That paints, by strength of sorrow, 
The unconquerable strength of love; 
Bear witness, rueful Yarrow! 

26 But thou that didst appear so fair 

To fond imagination, 

Dost rival in the light of day 

Her delicate creation: 

Meek loveliness is round thee spread, 
30 A softness still and holy: 

The grace of forest charms decay'd, 

And pastoral melancholy. 

That region left, the vale unfolds 

Rich groves of lofty stature, 
35 With Yarrow winding through the pomp \ 

Of cultivated nature; 

And rising from those lofty groves 

Behold a ruin hoary. 

The shatter'd front of Newark's towers, 
40 Renown 'd in Border story. 



cccvii] Book Fourth 349 

Fair scenes for cliildhood's opening bloom, • 
For sportive youth to stray in, 
For manhood to enjoy liis strength, 
And age to wear away in! 
5 Yon cottage seems a bower of bhss, 

A covert for protection 
Of tender thoughts that nestle there— 
The brood of chaste affection. 

How sweet on this autumnal day 
10 The wild-wood fruits to gather, 

And on my True-love's forehead plant 

A crest of blooming heather! 

And what if I enwreathed my own? 

'Twere no offence to reason; 
15 The sober hills thus deck their brows 

To meet the wintry season. 

I see — but not by sight alone, 
Loved Yarrow, have I won thee; 
A ray of Fancy still survives — ■ 
20 Her sunshine plays upon thee! 

Thy ever-youthful waters keep 
A course of lively pleasure; 
And gladsome notes my lips can breathe 
Accordant to the measure. 

25 The vapours linger round the heights, 

They melt, and soon must vanish; 

One hour is theirs, nor more is mine — 

Sad thought! which I would banish, 

But that I know, where'er I go, 
30 Thy genuine image. Yarrow! 

Will dwell with me, to heighten joy, 

And cheer my mind in sorrow. 

W. Wordsworth 



CCCVII 

THE INVITATION 

Best and brightest, come away,— 
Fairer far than this fair Day, 



350 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccvii 

Which, Hke thee, to those in sorrow 
Comes to bid a sweet good-morrow 
To the rough year just awake 
In its cradle on the brake. 
5 The brightest hour of unborn Spring 

Through the winter wandering, 
Found, it seems, the halcyon mom 
To hoar February born; 
Bending from iieaven, -in azure mirth, 

10 It kiss'd the forehead of the earth. 

And smiled upon the silent sea, 
And bade the frozen streams be free. 
And waked to music all their fountains, 
And breathed upon the frozen mountains, 

15 And like a prophetess of May 

Strew'd flowers upon the barren way, 
Making the wintry world appear 
Like one on whom thou smilest, dear. 

Away, away, from men and towns, 
20 To the wild wood and the downs — 

To the silent wilderness 

Where the soul need not repress 

Its music, lest it should not find 

An echo in another's mind, 
25 While the touch of Nature's art 

Harmonizes heart to heart. 

Radiant Sister of the Day 

Awake! arise! and come away! 

To the wild woods and the plains, 
30 To the pools where winter rains 

Image all their roof of leaves. 

Where the pine its garland weaves 

Of sapless green, and ivy dun, 

Round stems that never kiss the sun; 
35 Where the lawns and pastures be 

And the sandhills of the sea; 

Where the melting hoar-frost wets 

The daisy-star that never sets. 

And wind-flowers and \nolets 
40 Which yet join not scent to hue 

Crown the pale year weak and new; 



(»ccviii] Book Fourth 351 

When the night is left behind 
In the deep east, dim and bUnd, 
And the blue noon is over us, 
And the multitudinous 
5 Billows murmur at our feet, 

Where the earth and ocean meet, 
And all things seem only one 
In the universal Sun. 

P. B. Shelley 



THE RECOLLECTION 

Now the last day of many days 
All beautiful and bright as thou. 
The lovehest and the last, is dead: 
Rise, Memory, and write its praise! 
5 Up — to thy wonted work! come, trace 

The epitaph of glory fled. 
For now the earth has changed its face, 
A frown is on the heaven's brow. 

We wander'd to the Pine Forest 
10 That skirts the Ocean's foam; 

The hghtest wind w^as in its nest, 

The tempest in its home. 
The whispering waves were half asleep, 
The clouds were gone to play, 
15 And on the bosom of the deep 

The smile of heaven lay; 
It seem'd as if the hour were one 

Sent from beyond the skies 
Which scatter'd from above the sun 
20 A light of Paradise! 

We paused amid the pines that stood 

The giants of the waste, 
Tortured by storms to shapes as rude 
As serpents interlaced, — 
25 And soothed by every azure breath 

That under heaven is blown. 



352 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccviii > 

To harmonies and hues beneath, 

As tender as its own: 
Now all the tree-tops lay asleep 

Like green waves on the sea, 
5 As still as in the silent deep 

The ocean-woods may be. 

How calm it was! — The silence there 

By such a chain was bound, 
That even the busy woodpecker 
10 Made stiller with her sound 

The inviolable quietness; 

The breath of peace we drew 
With its soft motion made not less 

The calm that round us grew. 
15 There seem'd, from the remotest seat 

Of the white mountain waste 
To the soft flower beneath our feet, 

A magic circle traced, — 
A spirit interfused around, 
20 A thrilling silent hfe; 

To momentary peace it bound 

Our mortal nature's strife; — 
And still I felt the centre of 

The magic circle there 
25 Was one fair form that fill'd with love 

The lifeless atmosphere. 

We paused beside the pools that lie 

Under the forest bough; 
Each seem'd as 'twere a little sky 
30 Gulf'd in a world below; 

A firmament of purple light 

Which in the dark earth lay, 
More boundless than the depth of night 
And purer than the day — 
35 In which the lovely forests grew 

As in the upper air, 
More perfect both in shape and hue 

Than any spreading there. 
There lay the glade and neighbouring lawn, 
40 And through the dark-green wood 



cccix] Book Fourth 353 

The white sun twinkhng Hke the dawn 

Out of a speckled cloud. 
Sweet views in which our world above 
Can never well be seen 
5 Were imaged in the water's love 

Of that fair forest green: 
And all was interfused beneath 

With an Elysian glow, 
An atmosphere without a breath, 
10 A softer day below. 

Like one beloved, the scene had lent 

To the dark water's breast 
Its every leaf and hneament 
With more than truth exprest; 
15 Until an envious wind crept by, 

Like an unwelcome thought 
Which from the mind's too faithful eye 

Blots one dear image out. 
— Though thou art ever fair and kind, 
20 The forests ever green, 

Less oft is peace in Shelley's mind 
Than calm in waters, seen! 

P. B. Shelley 



CCCIX 

BY THE SEA 

It is a beauteous evening, calm and free; 
The holy time is quiet as a Nun 
Breathless with adoration; the broad sun 
Is sinking down in its tranquilhty; 

5 The gentleness of heaven is on the Sea: 
Listen! the mighty Being is awake, 
And doth with his eternal motion make 
A sound hke thunder — everlastingly. 
Dear child! dear girl! that walkest with me hcv< 

10 If thou appear untouch'd by solemn thought 
Thy nature is not therefore less divine: 



354 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccix 

Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year, 
And worshipp'st at the Temple's inner shrine, 
God being with thee when we know it not 

W. Wordsworth 



SONG TO THE EVENING STAR 

Star that bringest home the bee, 
And sett'st the weary labourer freel 
If any star shed peace, 'tis Thou 
That send'st it from above, 

5 Appearing when Heaven's breath and brow 

Are sweet as hers we love. 
Come to the luxuriant skies, 
Whilst the landscape's odours rise, 
Whilst far-off lowing herds are heard 
10 And songs when toil is done. 

From cottages whose smoke unstirr'd 

Curls yellow in the sun. 
Star of love's soft interviews. 
Parted lovers on thee muse; 
15 Their remembrancer in Heaven 

Of thrilling vows thou art, 
Too delicious to be riven 
By absence from the heart. 

T. Campbell 

CCCXI 

DATUR HORA QUIETI 

The sun upon the lake is low. 
The \\dld birds hush their song, 

The hills have evening's deepest glow, 
Yet Leonard tarries long. 

6 Now all whom varied toil and care 

From home and love divide, 

In the calm sunset may repair 

Each to the loved one's side. 



cocxiii] Book Fourth 355 

The noble dame, on turret high, 

Who waits her gallant knight, 
Looks to the western beam to spy 

The flash of armour bright. 
5 The village maid, with hand on brow 

The level ray to shade, 
Upon the footpath watches now 

For Cohn's darkening plaid. 

Now to their mates the wild swans row, 
10 By day they swam apart, 

And to the thicket wanders slow 

The hind beside the hart. 
The woodlark at his partner's side 
Twitters his closing song — 
15 All meet whom day and care divide, 

But Leonard tarries longl 

Sir W. Scott 

CCCXII 

TO THE MOON 

Art thou pale for weariness 
Of climbing heaven, and gazing on the earth, 

Wandering companionless 
Among the stars that have a different birth, — 
5 And ever-changing, like a joyless eye 
That finds no object worth its constancy? 

P. B. Shelley 

CCCXIII 

TO SLEEP 

A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by 
One after one; the sound of rain, and bees 
Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and seas. 
Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky; 
5 I've thought of all by turns, and yet do lie 
Sleepless; and soon the small bird's melodies 
Must hear, first utter'd from my orchard trees, 
And the first cuckoo's melancholy cry. 



^*56 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxiii 

Even thus last night, and two nights more I lay, 
And could not win thee, Sleep! by any stealth: 
So do not let me wear tonight away: 
Without Thee what is all the morning's wealth? 
5 Come, blessed barrier between day and day, 
Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health! 

W. Wordsworth 



THE SOLDIER'S DREAM 

Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lower'd, 

And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky; 
And thousands had sunk on the ground overpower'd. 
The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die. 
5 When reposing that night on my pallet of straw 

By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the slain, 
At the dead of the night a sweet Vision I saw; 

And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again. 
Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array 
10 Far, far, I had roam'd on a desolate track: 
'Twas Autumn, — and sunshine arose on the way 

To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. 
I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft 

In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; 
15 I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, 

And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers 
sung. 
Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore 
From my home and my weeping friends never to 
part; 
My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o'er, 
20 And my wife sobb'd aloud in her fulness of heart. 
'Stay — stay with us! — rest! — thou art weary and 
worn ! ' — 
And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay; — 
But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn, 
And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away 

T. Campbell 



cccxv] Book Fourth 357 

cccxv 

A DREAM OF THE UNKNOWN 

I dream'd that as I wander'd by the way 

Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring, 

And gentle odours led my steps astray, 
Mix'd with a sound of waters murmuring 
5 Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay- 
Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling 

Its green arms round the bosom of the stream. 

But kiss'd it and then fled, as Thou mightest in dream. 

There grew pied wind-flowers and violets, 
10 Daisies, those pearl'd Arcturi of the earth, 

The constellated flower that never sets; 

Faint oxlips; tender blue-bells, at whose birth 

The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wet& 

Its mother's face with heaven-collected tears, 
15 When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears. 

And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine, 

Green cow-bind and the moonhght-colour'd May, 

And cherry-blossoms, and wliite cups, whose wine 
Was the bright dew yet drain'd not by the day; 
20 And wild roses, and ivy serpentine 

With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray; 

And flowers azure, black, and streak'd with gold, 

Fairer than any waken'd eyes behold. 

And nearer to the river's trembling edge 
25 There grew broad flag-flowers, purple prank'd with 
white. 
And starry river-buds among the sedge, 

And floating water-lilies, broad and bright. 
Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge 

With moonlight beams of their own watery light; 
30 And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green 
As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen, 

Methought that of these visionary flowers 
I made a nosegay, bound in such a wav 



358 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxv 

That the same hues, which in th'^ir natural bowers 

Were mingled or opposed, the like array 
Kept these imprison 'd children of the Hours 
Within my hand, — and then, elate and gay, 
5 I hasten'd to the spot whence I had come 
That I might there present it — O! to Whom? 

P. B. Shelley 



KUBLA KHAN 

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan 
A stately pleasure-dome decree: 
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran 
Through caverns measureless to man 
5 Down to a sunless sea. 

So twice five miles of fertile ground 
With walls and towers were girdled round: 
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills 
Where blossom'd many an incense-bearing tree; 

10 And here were forests ancient as the liills, 
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery. 

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted 
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover! 
A savage place! as holy and enchanted 

15 As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted 
By woman wailing for her demon-lover! 
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething, 
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing, 
A mighty fountain momently was forced: 

20 Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst 

Huge fragments vaulted hke rebounding hail, 
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail: 
And mid these dancing rocks at once and ever 
It flung up momently the sacred river. 

25 Five miles meandering with a mazy motion 
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran, 
Then reach'd the caverns measureless to man, 
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean: 
And 'mivi this tumult Kubla heard from far 

30 Ancestral voices prophesying war! 



cccxvii] Book Fourth 359 

The shadow of the dome of pleasure 
Floated midway on the waves; 
Where was heard the mingled measure 
From the fountain and the caves. 
5 It was a miracle of rare device, 

A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice! 
A damsel with a dulcimer 
In a vision once I saw: 
It was an Abyssinian maid, 
10 And on her dulcimer she play'd, 

Singing of Mount Abora. 
Could I re\ive witliin me 
Her symphony and song. 
To such a deep delight 'twould win me 
15 That with music loud and long, 
I would build that dome in air, 
That sunny dome! those caves of ice I 
And all who heard should see them there, 
And all should cry, Beware! Beware! 
20 His flashing eyes, liis floating hair! 
Weave a circle round him thrice, 
And close your eyes with holy dread, 
For he on honey-dew hath fed, 
And drunk the milk of Paradise. 

S. T. Coleridge 



CCCXVII 

THE IXXER VISION 

Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes 
To pace the ground, if path be there or none, 
While a fair region round the traveller Ues 
Which he forbears again to look upon; 
5 Pleased rather with some soft ideal scene, 
The work of Fancy, or some happy tone 
Of meditation, slipping in between 
The beauty coming and the beauty gone. 
— If Thought and Love desert us, from that day 
10 Let us break off all commerce with the Muse: 
With Thought and Love companions of our way- 



360 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxvii 

Whate'er the senses take or may refuse, — 
The Mind's internal heaven shall shed her dews 
Of inspiration on the humblest lay. 

W. Wordsworth 



THE REALM OF FANCY 

Ever let the Fancy roam; 

Pleasure never is at home: 

At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth, 

Like to bubbles when rain pelteth; 
5 Then let winged Fancy wander 

Through the thought still spread beyond her: 

Open wide the mind's cage-door, 

She'll dart forth, and cloudward soar. 

O sweet Fancy! let her loose; 
10 Summer's joys are spoilt by use, 

And the enjoying of the Spring 

Fades as does its blossoming; 

Autumn's red-lipp'd fruitage too. 

Blushing through the mist and dew, 
15 Cloys with tasting: What do then? 

Sit thee by the ingle, when 

The sear faggot blazes bright, 

Spirit of a winter's night; 

When the soundless earth is muffled, 
20 , And the caked snow is shuffled 

From the ploughboy's heavy shoon; 

When the Night doth meet the Noon 
I In a dark conspiracy 

To banish Even from her sky. 
25 1 Sit thee there, and send abroad, 

With a mind self-overaw'd, 

Fancy, high-commission'd: — send herl 

She has vassals to attend her: 

She will bring, in spite of frost, 
30 Beauties that the earth hath lost; 

She will bring thee, all together. 

All delights of summer weather; 

All the buds and bells of May, 



cccxviii] Book Fourth 361 

From dewy sward or thorny spray; 

All the heaped Autumn's wealth, 

With a still, mysterious stealth: 

She will mix these pleasures up 
5 Like three fit wines in a cup, 

And thou shalt quaff it: — thou shalt hear 

Distant harvest-carols clear; 

Rustle of the reaped corn; 

Sweet birds antheming the morn: 
10 And, in the same moment — hark I 

'Tis the early April lark, 

Or the rooks, with busy caw. 

Foraging for sticks and straw. 

Thou shalt, at one glance, behold 
15 The daisy and the marigold; 

White-plumed lilies, and the first 

Hedge-grown primrose that hath burst; 

Shaded hyacinth, alway 

Sapphire queen of the mid-May; 
20 And every leaf, and every flower 

Pearled with the self-same shower. 

Thou shalt see the field-mouse peep 

Meagre from its celled sleep; 

And the snake all winter-thin 
25 Cast on sunny bank its skin; 

Freckled nest-eggs thou shalt see 

Hatching in the hawthorn-tree, 

When the hen-bird's wing doth rest 

Quiet on her mossy nest; 
30 Then the hurry and alarm 

When the bee-hive casts its swarm 

Acorns ripe down-pattering, 

While the autumn breezes sing. 
Oh, sweet Fancy! let her loose; 
35 Everything is spoilt by use: 

Where's the cheek that doth not fade. 

Too much gazed at? Where's the maid 

W^hose lip mature is ever new? 

Where's the eye, however blue, 
40 Doth not weary? Where's the face 

One would meet in every place? 

Where's the voice, however soft, 



362 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxviii 

One would hear so very oft? 

At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth 

Like to bubbles when rain pelteth. 

Let then winged Fancy find 
5 Thee a mistress to thy mmd: 

Dulcet-eyed as Ceres' daughter, 

Ere the God of Torment taught her 

How to frown and how to chide; 

With a waist and with a side 
10 White as Hebe's, when her zone 

Slipt its golden clasp, and down 

Fell her kirtle to her feet, 

While she held the goblet sweet, 

And Jove grew languid. — Break the mesh 
15 Of the Fancy's silken leash; 

Quickly break her prison-string. 

And such joys as these she'll bring. 

■ — Let the winged Fancy roam, 

Pleasure never is at home. 

J. Keats 

cccxix 
WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING 

I heard a thousand blended notes 

While in a grove I sate reclined, 

In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts 

Bring sad thoughts to the mind. 
5 To her fair works did Nature link 

The human soul that through me ran; 

And much it grieved my heart to think 

What Man has made of Man. 

Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower, 
10 The periwinkle trail'd its wreaths; 

And 'tis my faith that every flower 

Enjoys the air it breathes. 

The birds around me hopp'd and play'd, 

Their thoughts I cannot measure, — 
15 But the least motion which they made 

It seem'd a thrill of pleasure. 



cccxx] Book Fourth 363 

The budding twigs spread out their fan 
To catch the breezy air; 
And I must think, do all I can, 
That there was pleasure there. 

t 6 If this belief from heaven be sent, 

If such be Nature's holy plan, 
Have I not reason to lament 
What Man has made of Man? 

W. Wordsworth 



cccxx 

RUTH: OR THE INFLUENCES OF NATURE 

When Ruth was left half desolate 
Her father took another mate; 
And Ruth, not seven years old, 
A slighted child, at her OAvn will 
5 Went wandering over dale and hill, 

In thoughtless freedom, bold. 

And she had made a pipe of straw, 
And music from that pipe could draw 
Like sounds of winds and floods; 
10 Had built a bower upon the green, 

As if she from her birth had been 
An infant of the woods. 

Beneath her father's roof, alone 
She seem'd to live; her thoughts her owti; 
15 Herself her owii delight: i 

Pleased with herself, nor sad nor gay; 
And passing thus the live-long day, 
She grew to woman's height. 

There came a youth from Georgia's shore — 
20 A military casque he wore 

With splendid feathers drest; 
He brought them from the Cherokees; 
The feathers nodded in the breeze 
And made a gallant crest. 



364 '^ Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxx 

From Indian blood you deem him sprmig: 
But no! he spake the EngUsh tongue 
And bore a soldier's name; 
And, when America was free 
6 From battle and from jeopardy, 

He 'cross the ocean came. 

With hues of genius on his cheek, 
In finest tones the youth could speak: 
— While he was yet a boy 
10 The moon, the glory of the sun, 

And streams that murmur as they run 
Had been his dearest joy. 

He was a lovely youth! I guess 
The panther in the wilderness 
15 Was not so fair as he; 

And when he chose to sport and play, 
No dolphin ever was so gay 
Upon the tropic sea. 

Among the Indians he had fought; 
20 And with him many tales he brought 

Of pleasure and of fear; 
Such tales as, told to any maid 
By such a youth, in the green shade, 
Were perilous to hear. 

25 He told of girls, a happy rout! 

Who quit their fold with dance and shout, 

Their pleasant Indian town, 

To gather strawberries all day long; 

Returning with a choral song 
30 When daylight is gone down. 

He spake of plants that hourly change 
Their blossoms, through a boundless range 
Of intermingling hues; 
With budding, fading, faded flowers, 
86 They stand the wonder of the bowers 

From mom to evening dews. 

He told of the magnolia, spread 
High as a cloud, high over head I 
The cypress and her spire; 



cccxx] Book Fourth 365 

• — Of flowers that with one scarlet gleam 
Cover a hundred leagues, and seem 
To set the hills on fire. 

The youth of green savannahs spake, 
5 And many an endless, endless lake 

With all its fairy crowds 
Of islands, that together lie 
As quietly as spots of sky 
Among the evening clouds. 

10 'How pleasant/ then he said, *it were 

A fisher or a hunter there. 

In sunshine or in shade 

To wander with an easy mind. 

And build a household fire, and find 
15 A home in every glade! 

'What days and w^hat bright years! Ah me I 
Our life were life indeed, with thee 
So pass'd in quiet bhss; 
And all the while,' said he, 'to know 
20 That we were in a world of woe, 

On such an earth as this!' 

And then he sometimes interwove 
Fond thoughts about a father's love, 
'For there,' said he, 'are spun 
25 Around the heart such tender ties. 

That our o■\^^l children to our eyes 
Are dearer than the sun. 

'Sweet Ruth! and could you go with m 
My helpmate in the woods to be, 
30 Our shed at night to rear; 

Or run, my o^^^l adopted bride, 
A sylvan huntress at my side. 
And drive the flying deer! 

'Beloved Ruth!' — No more he said. 
35 The wakeful Ruth at midnight shed 

A solitary tear: 

She thought again — and did agree 
With him to sail across the sea, 
And drive the fl}ang deer. 



366 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxx 

'And now, as fitting is and right, 
We in the church our faith will plight, 
A husband and a wife.' 
Even so they did; and I may say 
6 That to sweet Ruth that happy day 

Was more than human life. 

Through dream and vision did she sink, 
Delighted all the while to think 
That, on those lonesome floods 
^0 And green savannahs, she should share 

His board with lawful joy, and bear 
His name in the wild woods. 

But, as you have before been told, 
This Stripling, sportive, gay, and bold, 
15 . And with his dancing crest 

So beautiful, through savage lands 
Had roam'd about, wdth vagrant bands 
Of Indians in the West. 

The wind, the tempest roaring high, 
20 The tumult of a tropic sky 

Might well be dangerous food 
For him, a youth to whom was given 
So much of earth — so much of heaven, 
And such impetuous blood. 

25 Whatever in those climes he found 

Irregular in sight and sound 

Did to his mind impart 

A kindred impulse, seem'd allied 

To his owTi powers, and justified 
30 The workings of his heart. 

Nor less, to feed voluptuous thought, 
The beauteous forms of Nature wrought, — 
Fair trees and gorgeovis flowers; 
The breezes their own languor lent; 
36 The stars had feelings, which they sent 

Into those favoured bowers. 

Yet, in his worst pursuits, I ween 
That sometimes there did intervene 
Pure hopes of high intent: 



cccxx] Book Fourth 3$7 

For passions link'd to forms so fair 
And stately, needs must have their share 
Of noble sentiment. 

But ill he lived, much e\\\ saw, 
3 With men to whom no better law 

Nor better hfe was known; 
Deliberately and undeceived 
Those wild men's vices he received, 
And gave them back his own. 

10 His genius and his moral frame 

Were thus impair'd, and he became 
The slave of low desires: 
A man who without self-control 
Would seek what the degraded soul 

16 Unworthily admires. 

And yet he \vith no feign 'd delight 
Had woo'd the maiden, day and night 
Had loved her, night and morn: 
W^hat could he less than love a maid 
20 Whose heart with so much nature play'd^- 

So kind and so forlorn? 

Sometimes most earnestly he said, 
*0 Ruth! I have been worse than dead; 
False thoughts, thoughts bold and vain 
25 Encompass'd me on every side 

When I, in confidence and pride, 
Had cross'd the Atlantic main. 

'Before me shone a glorious world 
Fresh as a banner bright, unfurl'd 
30 To music suddenly: 

I look'd upon those hills and plains, 
And seem'd as if let loose from chains 
To hve at Ubertyl 



35 



'No more of this — for now, by thee. 
Dear Ruth! more happily set free, ; 
With nobler zeal I burn; 
My soul from darkness is released 
Like the whole sky when to the east 
The morning doth return.' 



368 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxx 

Full soon that better mind was gone; 
No hope, no wish remain'd, not one, — 
They stirr'd him now no more; 
New objects did new pleasure give, 
5 And once again he wish'd to live 

As lawless as before. 

Meanwhile, as thus with him it fared, 
They for the voyage were prepared, 
And went to the sea-shore: 
to But, when they thither came, the youth 

Deserted his poor bride, and Ruth 
Could never find him more, 

God help thee, Ruth! — Such pains she had 
That she in half a year was mad 
16 And in a prison housed; 

And there, with many a doleful song 
Made of wild words, her cup of wrong 
She fearfully caroused. 

Yet sometimes milder hours she knew, 
20 Nor wanted sun, nor rain, nor dew, 

Nor pastimes of the May, 
— They all were with her in her cell; 
And a clear brook with cheerful knell 
Did o'er the pebbles play. 

25 When Ruth three seasons thus had lain, 

There came a respite to her pain; 

She from her prison fled; 

But of the Vagrant none took thought; 

And where it liked her best she sought 
30 Her shelter and her bread. 

Among the fields she breathed again: 
The master-current of her brain 
Ran permanent and free; 
And, coming to the banks of Tone, 
35 There did she rest; and dwell alone 

Under the greenwood tree. 

The Sigines of her pain, the tools 

That shaped her sorrow, rocks and pools. 

And airs that gently stir 



cccxxj Book Fourth 369 

The vernal leaves — she loved them still. 
Nor ever tax'd them with the ill 
Which had been done to her. 

A bam her Winter bed supplies; 
5 But, till the warmth of Summer skies 

And Summer days is gone, 
(And all do in this tale agree) 
She sleeps beneath the greenwood tree, 
And other home hath none. 

10 An innocent life, yet far astray! 

And Ruth will, long before her day, 

Be broken down and old. 

Sore aches she needs must have! but less 

Of mind, than body's wretchedness, 
15 From damp, and rain, and cold. 

If she is prest by want of food 

She from her dwelling in the wood 

Repairs to a road-side; 

And there she begs at one steep place 
20 Where up and dovMi with easy pace 

The horsemen-travellers ride. 

That oaten pipe of hers is mute 

Or thrown away: but with a flute 

Her loneliness she cheers; 
2.5 This flute, made of a hemlock stalk. 

At evening in his homeward walk 

The Quantock woodman hears. 

I, too, have pass'd her on the hills 

Setting her little water-mills 
30 By spouts and fountains wdld — 

Such small machinery as she turn'd 

Ere she had wept, ere she had mourn'd,— 

A young and happy child! 

Farewell! and when thy days are told, 
35 Ill-fated Ruth! in hallow'd mould 

Thy corpse shall buried be; 

For thee a funeral bell shall ring. 

And all the congregation sing 

A Christian psalm for thee, 

W. Wordsworth 



370 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxxi 



cccxxi 

WRITTEN AMONG THE 
EUGANEAN HILLS 

Many a green isle needs must be 
In the deep wide sea of Misery, 
Or the mariner, worn and wan, 
Never thus could voyage on 
5 Day and night, and night and day, 

Drifting on his dreary way, 
With the solid darkness black 
Closing round his vessel's track: 
Whilst above, the sunless sky 

10 Big with clouds, hangs heavily, 

And behind the tempest fleet 
Hurries on with lightning feet. 
Riving sail, and cord, and plank, 
Till the ship has almost drank 

15 Death from the o'er-brimming deep; 

And sinks down, down, like that sleep 
When the dreamer seems to be 
Weltering through eternity; 
And the dim low Une before 

20 Of a dark and distant shore 

Still recedes, as ever still 
Longing with divided will, 
But no power to seek or shun, 
He is ever drifted on 

25 O'er the unreposing wave, 

To the haven of the grave. 

Ah, many flowering islands lie 
In the waters of wide Agony: 
To such a one this mom was led 

30 My bark, by soft winds piloted. 

— 'Mid the mountains Euganean 
I stood listening to the paean 
With which the legion'd rooks did hail 
The Sun's uprise majestical: 

35 Gathering round with \Wngs all hoar. 



cccxxi] Book Fourth 371 

Through the dewy mist they soar 
Like gray shades, till the eastern heaven 
Bursts; and then, — as clouds of even 
Fleck'd with fire and azure, lie 
5 In the unfathomable sky, — 

So their plumes of purple grain 
Starr'd with drops of golden rain 
Gleam above the sunlight woods, 
As in silent multitudes 

10 On the morning's fitful gale 

Through the broken mist they sail; 
And the vapours cloven and gleaming 
Follow down the dark steep streaming, 
Till all is bright, and clear, and still 

15 Round the solitary hill. 

Beneath is spread like a green sea 

The waveless plain of Lombardy, 

Bounded by the vaporous air, 

Islanded by cities fair; 
20 Underneath Day's azure eyes, 

Ocean's nursling, Venice lies, — 

A peopled labyrinth of walls, 

Amphitrite's destined halls. 

Which her hoary sire now paves 
25 With his blue and beaming waves. 

Lo! the sun upsp rings behind, 

Broad, red, radiant, half-reclined 

On the level quivering line 

Of the waters crystalline; 
30 And before that chasm of light, 

As within a furnace bright. 

Column, tower, and dome, and spire, 

Shine like obelisks of fire, 

Pointing with inconstant motion 
35 From the altar of dark ocean 

To the sapphire-tinted skies; 

As the flames of sacrifice 

From the marble shrines did rise 

As to pierce the dome of gold 
40 Where Apollo spoke of old. 

Sun-girt City! thou hast been 



372 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxxi 

Ocean's child, and then liis queen; 

Now is come a darker day, 

And thou soon must be his prey. 

If the power that raised thee here 
5 Hallow so thy watery bier. 

A less drear ruin then than now, 

With thy conquest-branded brow 

Stooping to the slave of slaves 

From thy throne among the waves 
10 Wilt thou be, — when the sea-mew 

Fhes, as once before it flew, 

O'er thine isles depopulate, 

And all is in its ancient state, 

Save where many a palace-gate 
15 With green sea-flowers overgrown 

Like a rock of ocean's own, • 

Topples o'er the abandon'd sea 

As the tides change sullenly. 

The fisher on his watery way 
20 Wandering at the close of day, 

Will spread his sail and seize his oar 

Till he pass the gloomy shore, 

Lest thy dead should, from their sleep 

Bursting o'er the starlight deep, 
25 Lead a rapid masque of death 

O'er the waters of his path. 

Noon descends around me now; 

'Tis the noon of autumn's glow 

When a soft and purple mist 
30 Like a vaporous amethyst, 

Or an air-dissolved star 

Mingling hglit and fragrance, far 

From the curved horizon's bound 

To the point of heaven's profound, 
35 Fills the overflowing sky; 

And the plains that silent lie 

Underneath; the leaves unsodden 

Where the infant Frost has trodden 

With his morning-winged feet 
40 Whose bright print is gleaming yet; 

A.nd the red and golden vines 



cccxxi] Book Fourth 373 

Piercing with their trelhsed lines 

The rough, dark-skirted wilderness; 

The dun and bladed grass no less, 

Pointing from tliis hoary tower 
6 In the windless air; tlie flower 

Ghmmering at my feet; the line 

Of the olive-sandall'd Apennine 

In the south dimly islanded; 

And the Alps, whose snows are spread 
10 High between the clouds and sun; 

And of living things each one; 

And my spirit, which so long 

Darken 'd this swift stream of song, — 

Interpenetrated lie 
15 By the glory of the sky; 

Be it love, light, harmony, 

Odour, or the soul of all 

Which from heaven like dew doth fall, 

Or the mind which feeds this verse, 
20 PeopUng the lone universe. 

Noon descends, and after noon 

Autumn's evening meets me soon, 

Leading the infantine moon 

And that one star, which to her 
25 Almost seems to minister 

Half the crimson light she brings 

P>om the sunset's radiant springs: 

And the soft dreams of the morn 

(Which hke winged winds had borne 
30 To that silent isle, which lie;^ 

'Mid remember'd agonies, 

The frail bark of this lone being), 

Pass, to otlier sufferers fleeing, 

And its ancient pilot, Pain, 
35 Sits beside the helm again. 

Other flowering isles must be 
In the sea of Life and Agony. 
Other spirits float and flee 
O'er that gulf: Ev'n now, perhaps, 
40 On some rock the wild wave wraps. 



374 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxxi 

With folded wings they waiting sit 

For my bark, to pilot it 

To some calm and blooming cove; 

Where for me, and those I love, 
5 May a windless bower be built, 

Far from passion, pain, and guilt, 

In a dell 'mid lawny hills 

Which the wild sea-murmur fills. 

And soft sunshine, and the sound 
10 Of old forests echoing round. 

And the light and srnell divine 

Of all flowers that breathe and shine. 

— ^We may live so happy there. 

That the Spirits of the Air 
15 Envying us, may ev'n entice 

To our healing paradise 

The polluting multitude: 

But their rage would be subdued 

By that clime divine and calm, 
20 And the winds whose ^^^ngs rain balm 

On the uplifted soul, and leaves 

Under which the bright sea heaves; 

While each breathless interval 

In their whisperings musical 
25 The inspired soul supplies 

With its own deep melodies; 

And the Love which heals all strife 

Circling, like the breath of life, 

All things in that sweet abode 
30 With its own mild brotherhood: — 

They, not it, would change; and soon 

Every sprite beneath the moon 

Would repent its envy vain, 

And the Earth grow young again. 

P. B. Shelley 



cccxxiij Book Fourth 375 



ODE TO THE WEST WIND 

O Avild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, 
Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead 
Are driven, Hke ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, 
Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, 
5 Pestilence-stricken multitudes! O thou 
Who chariotest to their dark ^\■intry bed 
The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, 
Each like a corpse within its grave, until 
Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow 
10 Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill 
(Driving sweet buds hke flocks to feed in air) 
With hving hues and odours plain and liill: 
Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere; 
Destroyer and Preserver; Hear, oh hear! 

15 Thou on whose stream, 'mid the steep sky's com- 
motion, 
Loose clouds hke earth's decaying leaves are shed, 
Shook from the tangled boughs of heaven and ocean, 
Angels of rain and lightning! there are spread 
On the blue surface of thine airy surge, 

20 Like the bright hair uplifted from the head 

Of some fierce Maenad, ev'n from the dim verge 
Of the horizon to the zenith's height — 
The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge 
Of the dying year, to which this closing night 

25 Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre, 
Vaulted with all thy congregated might 
Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere 
Black rain, and fire, and hail, will burst: Oh hear! 

Thou who didst waken from his summer-dreams 
30 The blue Mediterranean, where he lay, 

Lull'd by the coil of his crystalline streams. 
Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay, 
And saw in sleep old palaces and towers 
Qu'vering witliin the wave's intenser day. 



376 Palgrave^s Golden Treasury [cccxxi 

All overgrowTi \vith azure moss, and flowers 
So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou 
For whose path the Atlantic's level powers 
Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below 
5 The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear 
The sapless foliage of the ocean, know 
Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear 
And tremble and despoil themselves: Oh heari 

If I were a dead leaf thou mighte.st bear; 

10 If I were a s\\dft cloud to fly with thee; 

A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share 
The impulse of thy strength, only less free 
Than Thou, O uncontrollable I If even 
I were as in my boyhood, and could be 

15 The comrade of thy wanderings over heaven, 
As then, when to outstrip thy skiey speed 
Scarce seem'd a vision, — I would ne'er have stri\en 
As thus vrith thee in prayer in my sore need. 
Oh! hft me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud! 

20 I fall upon the thorns of Hfe! I bleed 1 

A heavy weight of hours has chain 'd and bow'd 
One too like thee — tameless, and swift, and proud. 

Make me thy lyre, ev'n as the forest is: 
What if my leaves are falling like its own! 

25 The tumult of thy mighty harmonies 

Will' take from both a deep autumnal tone, 
Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce. 
My spirit! be thou me, impetuous one! 
Drive my dead thoughts over the universe, 

30 Like wither'd leaves, to quicken a new birth; 
And, by the incantation of this verse. 
Scatter, as f^om an unextinguish'd hearth 
Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind! 
Be through my lips to unawaken'd earth 

35 The trumpet of a prophecy i O Wind, 

If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind? 

P. B. i. 



cccxxiii] Book Founh .377 



NATURE AND THE POET 

Suggested hy a Picture of Peele Castle in a Storm, 
vainted by Sir George Beaumont 

I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile! 
Four siunmer weeks I dwelt in sight of thee: 
I saw thee every day; and all the while 
Thy Form was sleeping on a glassy sea. 

5 So pure the sky, so quiet was the air! 
So like, so very like, was day to day! 
Whene'er I look'd, thy image still was there; 
It trembled, but it never pass'd away. 

» 
How perfect was the calm! It seem'd no sleep, 
10 No mood, which season takes away, or brings: 
I could have fancied that the mighty Deep 
Was even the gentlest of all gentle things. 

Ahl then — if mine had been the painter's hand 
To express what then I saw; and add the gleam 
15 The light that never was on sea or land, 
The consecration, and the Poet's dream,— 

I would have planted thee, thou hoary pile, 
Amid a world how different from this! 
Beside a sea tliat could not cease to smile; 
20 On tranquil land, beneath a sky of bliss. 

Thou shouldst have seem'd a treasure-house divine 
Of peaceful years; a chronicle of heaven;^ 
Of all the sunbeams that did ever shine 
The very sweetest liad to thee been given, 

25 A picture had it been of lasting ease, 
Elysian quiet, without toil or strife; 
No motion but the moving tide; a breeze; 
Or merelv silent Nature's breathing life 



378 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxxiii 

Such, in the fond ilKision of my heart, 

Such picture would I at that time have made; 

And seen the soul of truth in every part, 

A steadfast peace that might not be betray'd. 

5 So once it would have been, — 'tis so no more; 
I have submitted to a new control: 
A power is gone, which nothing can restore; 
A deep distress hath humanized my soul. 

Not for a moment could I now behold 
10 A smiling sea, and be what I have been: 
The feehng of my loss will ne^er be old; 
This, which I know, I speak with mind serene. 

Then, Beaumont, Friend I who would have been the 
friend 
, If he had lived, of Him whom I deplore, 
15 This work of tliine I blame not, but commend; 
This sea in anger, and that dismal shore. 

'tis a passionate work! — yet wise and well, 
Well chosen is the spirit tliat is here; 

That hulk wliich labours in the deadly swell, 
20 This rueful sky, this pageantry of fear! 

And this huge Castle, standing here sublime, 

1 love to see the look with which it braves, 
— Cased in the unfeeling armour of old time— 

The lightning, the fierce wind, and tramphng waves, 

25 — Farewell, farewell the heart that lives alone 
Housed in a dream, at distance from the lundl 
Such happiness, wherever it be known, 
Is to be pitied; for 'tis surely blind. 

But welcome fortitude, and patient cheer, 
30 And frequent sights of what is to be borne! 
Such sights, or worse, as are before me here: — 
Not without hope we suffer and we mourn. 

W. W<rrdsworth 



cccxxv] Book Fourth. 379 



THE POET'S DREAM 

On a Poet's lips I slept 
Dreaming like a love-adept 
In the sound his breatliing kept; 
Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses, 
5 But feeds on the aerial kisses 

Of shapes that haunt Thought's wildernesses. 
He will watch from dawn to gloom 
The lake-reflected sun illume 
The yellow bees in the ivy-bloom, 
10 Nor heed nor see what things they be — 

But from these create he can 
Forms more peal than living Man, 
Nurshngs of Immortality! 

P. B. Shelleij 



cccxxv 
GLEN-ALMAIN, THE NARROW GLEN 

In tliis still place, remote from men, 

Sleeps Ossian, in the Narrow Glen; 

In this still place, where murmurs on 

But one meek streamlet, only one: 
5 He sang of battles, and the breath 

Of stormy war, and \iolent death; 

And should, methinks, when all was past, 

Have rightfully been laid at last 

Where rocks were rudely heap'd, and rent 
10 As by a spirit turbulent; 

Where sights were rough, and sounds were wild, 

And everything unreconciled; 

In some complaining, dim retreat. 

For fear and melancholy meet; 
15 But this is calm; there cannot be 

A more entire tranquillity. 



380 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxxv 

Does then the Bard sleep here indeed? 

Or is it but a groundless creed? 

What matters it? — I blame them not 

Whose fancy in this lonely spot 
5 Was moved; and in such way express 'd 

Their notion of its perfect rest. 

A convent, even a hermit's cell, 

Would break the silence of this Dell: 

It is not quiet, is not ease; 
10 But something deeper far than these: 

The separation that is here 

Is of the grave; and of austere 

Yet happy feelings of the dead: 

And, therefore, was it rightly said 
15 That Ossian, last of all his race! 

Lies buried in this lonely place. 

W. Wordsworth 



cccxxvi 

The World is too nfiich with us; late and soon, 
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers; 
Little we see in Nature that is ours; 
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! 
5 This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon, 
The winds that will be howling at all hours 
And are up-gather'd now hke sleeping flowers. 
For this, for every thing, we are out of tune; 
It moves us not. — Great God! I'd rather be 
10 A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn, — 
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, 
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; 
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; 
Or hear old Triton blow his WTeathed horn. 

W. Wordsworth 



cccxxviii] Book Fourth 381 

CCCXXVII 

WITHIN KING'S COLLEGE CHAPEL, 
CAMBRIDGE 

Tax not the royal Saint with vain expense, 
With ill-match'd aims the Architect who plann'd 
(Albeit labouring for a scanty band 
Of white-robed Scholars only) this immense 

5 And glorious work of fine intelligence! 

—Give all thou canst; high Heaven rejects the lore 
Of nicely-calculated less or more: — 
So deem'd the man who fashion 'd for the sense 
These lofty pillars, spread that branching roof 

10 Self-poised, and scoop'd into ten thousand cells 
Where light and shade repose, where music dwells 
Lingering — and wandering on as loth to die; 
Like thoughts whose very sweetness yieldeth proof 
That they were born for immortality. 

TT^. Wordsworth 



CCCXXVIII 

ODE ON A GRECIAN URN 

Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness, 

Thou foster-child of silence and slow time, 
Sylvan liistorian, who canst thus express 

A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme 
5 What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape 
Of deities or mortals, or of both, 
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? 
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? 
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? 
10 What pipes and timbrels? Wliat \\'ild ecstasy? 

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard 
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; 

Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd. 
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: 



382 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxxviii 

Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave 
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; 
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, 
Though winning near the goal — yet, do not grieve; 
5 She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, 
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair! 

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed 

Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; 
And, happy melodist, unwearied, 
10 For ever piping songs for ever new; 

More happy love! more happy, happy love! 
For ever warm and still to be enjoy 'd. 
For ever panting, and for ever young; 
All breathing human passion far above, 
15 That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd, 
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue. 

Who are these coming to the sacrifice-? 

To what green altar, O mysterious priest, 
Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies, 
20 And all her silken flanks with garlands drest? 
What little town by river or sea shore. 
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel, 
Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn? 
And, little town, thy streets for evermore 
25 Will silent be; and not a soul to tell 

Why thou art desolate, can e'er return. 

O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede 

Of marble men and maidens overwrought, 
With forest branches and the trodden weed; 
30 Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought 
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! 

When old age shall this generation waste, 
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe 
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, 
35 'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,' — that is all 

Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know. 

J. Keats 



cccxxixj Book Fourth 383 

cccxxix 

YOUTH AND AGE 

Verse, a breeze 'mid blossoms straying, 

Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee — 

Both were mine! Life went a-maying 
With Nature, Hope, and Poesy, 
5 When I was young 1 

When I was young? — Ah, woful when! 

Ah! for the change 'twixt Now and Then! 

This breathing house not built with hands, 

This body that does me grievous wrong, 
10 O'er aery chffs and ghttering sands 

How hghtly then it flash'd along: 

Like those trim skiffs, unknown of yore, 

On winding lakes and rivers wide. 

That ask no aid of sail or oar, 
15 That fear no spite of wind or tide I 

Nought cared this body for wind or weather 

When youth and I hved in't together. 
Flowers are lovelj'-; Love is flower-like; 

Friendship is a sheltering tree; 
20 O! the joys, that came down shower-like. 

Of Friendship, Love, and Liberty, 
Ere I was old! 

Ere I was old? Ah woful Ere, 

Which tells me, Youth's no longer here! 
25 O Youth! for years so many and sweet, 

'Tis known that Thou and I were one, 

I'll think it but a fond conceit — • 

It cannot be, that Thou art gone! 

Thy vesper-bell hath not yet toU'd: — 
30 And thou wert aye a masker bold! 

What strange disguise hast now put on 

To make believe that Thou art gone? 

I see these locks in silvery shps. 

This drooping gait, this alter'd size: 
'65 But Springtide blossoms on thy lips, 

And tears take sunshine from thine eyes] 

Life is but Thought: so think I will 

That Youth and I are house-mates still. 



384 Falgrave's Golden Treasury [a 

Dew-drops are the gems of morning, 
• But the tears of mournful eve I 

Where no hope is, hfe's a warning 
That only serves to make us grieve 
6 When we are old: 

- — That only serves to make us grieve 
With oft and tedious taking-leave, 
Like some poor nigh-related guest 
That may not rudely be dismist, 
10 Yet hath out-stay'd his welcome while, 

And tells the jest without the smile, 

S. T. Coleridge 



THE TWO APRIL MORNINGS 

We walk'd along, while bright and red 
Uprose the morning sun; 
And Matthew stopp'd, he look'd, and said 
'The will of God be done!' 

A village schoolmaster was he, 
With hair of glittering gray; 
As blithe a man as you could see 
On a spring holiday. 



10 



And on that morning, tlirough the grass 
And by the steaming rills 
We travell'd m.errily, to pass 
A day among the liills. 



'Our work/ said I 'was well begun; 
Then, from thy breast what thought, 
15 Beneath so beautiful a sun, 

So sad a sigh has brought?' 

A second time did Matthew stop; 
And fixing still his eye 
Upon the eastern mountain-top, 
20 To me he made reply. 



cccxxxj Book Fourth 385 

*Yon cloud with that long purple cleft 
Brings fresh into my mind 
A day hke this, which I have left 
Full thirty years beliind. 

5 'And just above yon slope of corn 

Such colours, and no other. 
Were in the sky that April morn. 
Of tliis the very brother. 

t 
'With rod and line I sued the sport 
10 Which that sweet season gave, 

And to the church-yard come, stopp'd short 
Beside my daughter's grave, 

'Nine summers had she scarcely seen, 
The pride of all the vale; 
15 And then she sang, — she would have been 

A very nightingale. 

'Six feet in earth my Emma lay; 
And yet I loved her more— 
For so it seem'd, — than till that day 
20 I e'er had loved before. 

'And turning from her grave, I met, 
Beside the churchyard yew, 
A blooming Girl, whose hair was wet 
With points of morning dew. 

25 'A basket on her head she bare; 

Her brow was smooth and white: 
To see a child so very fair. 
It was a pure delight! 

'No fountain from its rocky cave 
?0 E'er tripped with foot so free; 

^ She seem'd as happy as a wave 
That dances on the sea. 

'There came from me a sigh of pain 
Which I could ill confine; 
:55 I look'd at her, and look'd again: 

And did not wish her mine!' 



386 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxxx 

— Matthew is in his grave, yet now 
MethinUs I see him stand 
As at tliat moment, witli a bough 
Of wilding in his liand. 

W. Wordsworth 



cccxxxi 
THE FOUNTAIN^ 

A Conversation 

We talked with open heart, and tongue 
Affectionate and true, 
A pair of friends, though I was young, 
And Matthew seventy-two. 

5 We lay beneath a spreading oak, 

Beside a mossy seat; 
And from the turf a fountain broke 
And gurgled at our feet. 

'Now, Matthew!' said I, 'let us match 
10 This water's pleasant tune 

With some old border-song, or catch 
That suits a summer's noon; 

'Or of the church -clock and the chimes 
Sing here beneath the shade 
15 That half-mad thing of wntty rhymes 

Which you last April made!' 

In silence Matthew lay, and eyed 
The SDring beneath tho tree; 
And thus the dear old man replied, 
20 The gray-hair'd man of glee: 

'No check, no stay, this Streamlet fears, 
How merrily it goes! 
'Twill murmur on a thousand years 
And flow as now it flows- 



occxxxi] Book Fourth 387 

'And here, on this delightful day, 
I cannot choose but think 
How oft, a vigorous man, I lay 
Beside this fountain's brink. 

5 'My eyes are dim with childish tears, 

My heart is idly stirr'd. 
For the same sound is in my ears 
Which in those days I heard. 

'Thus fares it still in our decay: 
10 And yet the \\dser mind 

Mourns less for what Age takes away, 
Than what it leaves behind. 

'The blackbird amid leafy trees. 
The lark above the liill, 
15 Let loose their carols when they please. 

Are quiet when they w^ll. 

'With Nature never do they wage 
A foolish strife; they see 
A happy youth, and their old age 
20 Is beautiful and free: 

'But we are press'd by heavy laws; 
And often, glad no more. 
We wear a face of joy, because 
We have been glad of yore, 

25 'If there be one who need bemoan 

His kindred laid in earth, 
The household liearts that were his own, — 
It is the man of mirth. 

'My days, my friend, are almost gone, 
30 My life has been approved, 

And many love me; but by none 
Am I enough beloved.' 

'Now both himself and me he wrongs, 
The man who thus complains! 
35 I live and sing my idle songs 

Upon these happy plains: 



388 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxxxi 

'And Matthew, for thy children dead 
I'll be a son to thee!' 
At tliis he grasp'd my hand and said, 
'Alas! that cannot be.' 

5 — We rose up from the fountain-side; 

And down .the smooth descent 
Of the green sheep-track did we glide; 
And through the wood we went; 

And ere we came to Leonard's rock 
10 He sang those witty rhymes 

About the crazy old church-clock, 
And the bewilder'd chimes. 

W. Wordsworth 

CCCXXXII 

THE RIVER OF LIFE 

The more we live, more brief appear 

Our life's succeeding stages: 
A day to childhood seems a year. 

And years like passing ages. 

5 The gladsome current of our youth. 

Ere passion yet disorders, 
Steals lingering like a river smooth 
Along its grassy borders. 

But as the care-worn cheek grows wan, 
10 And sorrow's shafts fly thicker, 

Ye Stars, that measure life to man, 
Why seem your courses quicker? 

When joys have lost their bloom and breath 
And hfe itself is vapid, 
15 Why, as we reach the Falls of Death 

Feel we its tide more rapid? 

It may be strange — yet who would change 

Time's course to slower speeding, 
When one by one our friends have gone 
20 And left our bosoms bleeding? 



cccxxxiv] Book Fourth 389 

Heaven gives our years of fading strength 

Indemnifying fleetness; 
And those of youth, a seeming length, 

Proportion'd to their sweetness. 

T. CatnpbeU 



CCCXXXIII 

THE HUMAN SEASONS 

Four Seasons fill the measure of the year; 
There are four seasons in the mind of man: 
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear 
Takes in all beauty with an easy span: 

5 He has his Summer, when luxuriously 

Spring's honey'd cud of youthful thought he loves 

To ruminate, and by such dreaming high 

Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves 

His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings 

10 He furleth close; contented so to look 
On mists in idleness — to let fair things 
Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook. 
He has his Winter too of pale misfeature, 
Or else he would forego his mortal nature. 

J. Keats 



cccxxxiv 
A DIRGE 

Rough wind, that moanest loud 

Grief too sad for song; 
Wild \vand, when sullen cloud 

Knells all the night long; 
Sad storm whose tears are vain, 
Bare woods whose branches stain, 
Deep caves and dreary main, — ■ 

Wail for the world's wrong! 

P. B. Shelley 



390 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxxxv 



cccxxxv 

THRENOS 

O World! O Lite! O Time! 
On whose last steps I climb, 

Trembling at that where I had stood before* 
Wlien will return the glory of your prime? 
5 No more — Oh, never more! 

Out of the day and night 
A joy has taken flight: 

Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar 
Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight 
10 No more — Oh, never more! 

P. B. Shelley 



GCCXXXVI 

THE TROSACHS 

There's not a nook within this solemn Pass, 
But were an apt confessional for One 
Taught by his summer spent, his autumn gone. 
That Life is but a tale of morning grass 
5 Wither 'd at eve. From scenes of art which chase 
That thought away, turn, and with watchful eyes 
Feed it 'mid Nature's old felicities. 
Rocks, rivers, and smooth lakes more clear than glass 
Untouch'd, unbreathed upon: — Thrice happy quest, 
10 If from a golden perch of aspen spray 
(October's workmanship to rival May), 
The pensive warbler of the ruddy breast 
That moral sweeten by a heaven-taught lay, 
Lulling the year, with all its cares, to rest! 

W. Wordsworth 



cccxxxviii] Book Fourth 391 

CCCXXXVII 

My heart leaps up when I behold 

A rainbow in the sky : 
So was it when my life began, 
So is it now I am a man, 
5 So be it when I shall grow old 

Or let me die! 
The Child is father of the Man: 
And I could wish my days to be 
Bound each to each by natural piety. 

W. Wordsworth 

CCCXXXVIII 

ODE ON INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY 

FROM RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY 

CHILDHOOD 

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, 
The earth, and every common sight 
To me did seem 
Apparell'd in celestial light, 
5 The glory and the freshness of a dream. 
It is not now as it hath been of yore; — 
Turn wheresoe'er I may, 
By night or day. 
The things wliich I have seen I now can see no more. 

10 The rainbow comes and goes. 

And lovely is the rose; 
The moon doth with delight 
Look round her when the heavens are bare; 
Waters on a starry night 
15 Are beautiful and fair; 

The sunshine is a glorious birth; 
But yet I know, where'er I go. 
That there hath past away a glory from the earth. 

Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song. 
20 And while the young lambs bound 

As to the tabor's sound, 



392 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxxxviii 

To me alone there came a thought of grief: 
A timely utterance gave that thought relief, 

And I again am strong. 
The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep; — 
5 No more shall grief of mine the season wrong: 
I hear the echoes through the mountains throng, 
The winds come to me from the fields of sleep. 
And. all the earth is gay; 
Land and sea 
10 Give themselves up to jollity, 

And with the heart of May 
Doth every beast keep holiday; — 
Thou child of joy 
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy 
Shepherd-boy ! 

15 Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call 
Ye to each other make; I see 
The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee; 
My heart is at your festival. 
My head hath its coronal, 
20 The fulness of your bliss, I feel — I feel it all. 
Oh evil day! if I w^ere sullen 
While Earth herself is adorning 

This sweet May-morning; 
And the children are culhng 
25 On every side 

In a thousand valleys far and wide. 
Fresh flowers; wliile the sun shines warm 
And the babe leaps up on his mother's arm: — 
I hear, I hear, with joy I hear! 
30 —But there's a tree, of many, one, 

A single field which I have look'd upon. 
Both of them speak of something that is gone: 
The pansy at my feet 
Doth the same tale repeat: 
35 Whither is fled the visionary gleam? 

Where it is now, the glory and the dream? 

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; 
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, 
Hath had elsewhere its setting 
40 And Cometh from afar; 



cccxxxviii] Book Fourth 393 

Not in entire forgetfulness, 
And not in utter nakedness, 
But trailing clouds of glorj^ we do come 

From God, who is our home: 
5 Heaven lies about us in our infancy! 
Shades of the prison-house begin to close 

Upon the growing Boy, 
But he beholds the light, and whence it flows, 
He sees it in his joy; 
10 The Youth, who daily farther from the east 
Must trayel, still is Nature's priest, 
And by the \ision splendid 
Is on his way attended; 
At length the Man perceives it die away, 
15 And fade into the light of common day. 

Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own; 
Yearnings she hath in her o^\^l natural kind, 
And, even with something of a mother's mind 

And no unworthy aim, 
20 The homely nurse doth all she can 

To make her foster-child, her inmate, Man, 

Forget the glories he hath kno\vn. 
And that imperial palace whence he came. 

Behold the Child among his new-born blisses, 
25 A six years' darling of a pigmy size! 

See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies. 
Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses. 
With light upon him from his fatlier's eyes! 
See, at his feet, some little plan or chart, 
30 Some fragment from his dream of human life. 
Shaped by himself with newly-learned art; 
A wedding or a festival, 
A mourning or a funeral; 

And this hath now his heart, 
35 And unto this he frames his song: 

Then will he fit his tongue 
To dialogues of business, love, or strife; 
But it will not be long 
Ere this be thrown aside, 
40 And with new joy and pride 



394 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxxxviii 

The little actor cons another part; 
Filling from time to time his 'humorous stage' 
With all the Persons, down to palsied Age, 
That life brings with her in her equipage; 
S As if his whole vocation 

Were endless imitation. 

Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie 

Thy soul's immensity; 
Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep 

10 Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind. 

That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep, 
Haunted for ever by the eternal Mind, — 
Mighty Prophet! Seer blest! 
On whom those truths do rest 

15 Which we are toiling all our lives to find, 
In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave; 
Thou, over whom thy Immortality 
Broods like the day, a master o'er a slave, 
A Presence which is not to be put by; 

20 Thou little child, yet glorious in the might 
Of heaven-bom freedom on thy being's height, 
Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke 
The years to bring the inevitable yoke, 
Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife? 

25 Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight. 
And custom lie upon thee with a weight 
Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life! 

O joy! that in our embers 
Is something that doth live, 
30 That Nature yet remembers 

What was so fugitive! 
The thought of our past years in me doth breed 
Perpetual benediction: not indeed 
For that which is most worthy to be blest, 
35 Delight and liberty, the simple creed 
Of Cliildhood, whether busy or at rest. 
With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast: — 
— Not for these I raise 
The song of thanks and praise; 
40 But for those obstinate questionings 



cccxxxviii] Book Fourth 395 

Of sense and outward things, 
Fallings from us, vanishings; 
Blank misgivings of a creature 
Moving about in worlds not realized, 
5 High instincts, before which our mortal nature 
Did tremble like a guilty thing surprized: 
But for those first affections, 
Those shadowy recollections, 

Which, be they what they may, 
10 Are yet the fountain-light of all our day, 
Are yet a master-light of all our seeing; 

Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make 
Our noisy years seem moments in the being 
Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake, 
15 ^ To perish never; 

Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour, 

Nor man nor boy 
Nor all that is at enmity with joy, 
Can utterly abolish or destroy! 
20 Hence, in a season of calm weather 

Though inland far we be. 
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea 
Which brought us hither; 
Can in a moment travel thither — 
25 And see the children sport upon the shore, 
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore. 

Then, sing ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song! 
And let the young lambs bound 
As to the tabor's sound! 
30 We, in thought, will join your throng 

Ye that pipe and ye that play. 
Ye that through your hearts to-day 
Feel the gladness of the May! 
^hat though the radiance wliich was once so bright 
35 Be now for ever taken from my sight, 

Though nothing can bring back the hour 
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; 
We will grieve not, rather find 
kStrength in what remains behind; 
40 In the primal sympathy 

Which having been must ever be; 



396 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxxxviii 

In the soothing thoughts that spring 
Out of human suffering; 
In the faith that looks through death, 
In years that bring the philosophic mind. 

5 And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves, 

Forbode not any severing of our loves! 

Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might; 

I only have relinquish'd one delight 

To live beneath your more habitual sway: 
10 I love the brooks which down their channels fret 

Even more than w^hen I tripp'd lightly as they; 

The innocent brightness of a new-born day 
Is lovely yet; 

The clouds that gather round the setting sun 
15 Do take a sober colouring from an eye 

That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality; 

Another race hath been, and other palms are won. 

Thanks to the human heart by which we live. 

Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, 
20 To me the meanest flower that blows can give 

Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. 

W. Wordsworth 



cccxxxix 

Music, when soft voices die. 
Vibrates in the memory — 
Odours, when sweet violets sicken, 
Live within the sense they quicken. 

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, 

Are heap'd for the beloved's bed; 

And so thy thoughts, when Thou art gone, 

Love itself shall slumber on. 

P. B/ Shelley 



NOTES 
INDEX OF WRITERS 



AND 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES 



NOTES 

(1861—1891) 
Summary of Book First 

The Elizabethan Poetry, as it is rather vaguely termed, forms 
the substance of this Book, which contains pieces from Wyat 
under Henry VIII to Shakespeare midway through the reign 
of James I, and Drummond who carried on the early manner 
to a still later period. There is here a wide range of style; — 
from simplicity expressed in a language hardly yet broken-in 
to verse, — through the pastoral fancies and Italian conceits of 
the strictly Elizabethan time, — to the passionate reality of Shake- 
speare: yet a general uniformity of tone prevails. Pew readers 
can fail to observe the natural sweetness of the verse, the single- 
hearted straightforwardness of the thoughts: — nor less, the limi- 
tation of subject to the many phases of one passion, which then 
characterized our lyrical poetry, — unless when, as in especial 
with Shakespeare, the 'purple light of Love' is tempered by a 
spirit of sterner reflection. For the didactic verse of the century, 
although lyrical in form, yet very rarely rises to the Dervading 
emotion, the golden cadence, proper to the lyric. 

It should be observed that this and the following Summaries 
apply in the main to the Collection here presented, in which 
(besides its restriction to Lyrical Poetry) a strictly representa- 
tive or historical Anthology has not been aimed at. Great 
excellence, in human art as in human character, has from the 
beginning of things been even more uniform than mediocrity, 
by virtue of the closeness of its approach to Nature: — and so 
far as the standard of Excellence kept in view has been attained 
in this volume, a comparative absence of extreme or temporary 
phases in style, a similarity of tone and manner, will be found 
throughout: — something neither modern nor ancient, but true 
and speaking to the heart of man alike throughout all ages. 

399 



400 Palgrave^s Golden Treasury 

PAGE NO. 

52 iii whist: hushed, quieted. 

— iv Rouse Memnon's mother: Awaken the Dawn from the 
dark Earth and the clouds where she is resting. This 
is one of that Hmited class of early mythes which may 
be reasonably interpreted as representations ot natural 
phenomena. Aurora in the old mythology is mother 
of Memnon (the East), and wife of Tithonus (the appear- 
ances of Earth and Sky during the last hours of Night). 
She leaves him every morning in renewed youth, to 
prepare the way for Phoebus (the Sun), whilst Tithonus 
remains in perpetual old age and grayness. 

53 — 1. 23 by Peneus' stream: Phoebus loved the Nymph 

Daphne whom he met by the river Peneus in the vale 
of Tempe. L. 27 Amphion's lyre: He was said to have 
built the walls of Thebes to the sound of his music. 
L. 35 Night like a drunkard reels: Compare Romeo and 
Juliet, Act II, Scene 3: 'The grey-eyed morn smiles,' 
&c. — It should be added that three lines, which appeared 
hopelessly misprinted, have been omitted in this Poem. 
S't vi Time's chest: in which he is figuratively supposed to 
lay up past treasures. So in Troilus, Act III, Scene 
3, 'Time hath a wallet at his back', &c. In the Arcadia, 
chest is used to signify tomb. 

55 vii A fine example of the highwrought and conventional 

Elizabethan Pastoralism, which it would be unreason- 
able to criticise on the ground of the unshepherdlike 
or unreal character of some images suggested. Stanza 
6 was perhaps inserted by Izaak Walton. 

56 viii This beautiful lyric is one of several recovered from 

the very rare Elizabethan Song-books, for the publi- 
cation of which our thanks are due to Mr. A. H. Bullen 
(1887, 1888). 

58 xii One stanza has been here omitted, in accordance with 

the principle noticed in the Preface. Similar omis- 
sions occur in a few other poems. The more serious 
abbreviation by which it has been attempted to bring 
Crashaw's 'Wishes' and Shelley's 'Euganean Hills,' 
with one or two more, within the scheme of this selec- 
tion, is commended with much diffidence to the judg- 
ment of readers acquainted with the original pieces. 

59 xiii Sidney's poetry is singularly unequal; his short life, 

his frequent absorption in public employment, hin- 
dered doubtless the development of his genius. His 
great contemporary fame, second only, it appears, to 
Spenser's, has been hence obscured. At times he is 
heavy and even prosaic; his simplicity is rude and bare; 
his verse unmelodious. These, however, are the 'de- 
fects of his merits.' In a certain depth and chivalry 
of feeling, — in the rare and noble quality of disinter- 
estedness (to put it in one word), — he has no superior, 
hardly perhaps an equal, amongst our Poets; and after 
or beside Shakespeare's Sonnets, his Astrophel and 



Xotes 401 

PAGE NO. 

Stella, in the Editor's judgment, offers the most intense 
and powerful picture of the passion of love in the whole 
range of our poetry. — Hundreds of years: 'The very 
rapture of love,' says Mr. Ruskin; 'A lover like this 
does not believe his mistress can grow old or die.' 
62 xix Readers who have visited Italy will be reminded of 
more than one picture by this gorgeous Vision of Beauty, 
equally sublime and pure in its Paradisaical natural- 
ness. Lodge wrote it on a voyage to 'the Islands of 
Terceras and the Canaries;' and he seems to have caught, 
in those southern seas, no small portion of the qualities 
which marked the almost contemporary Art of Venice, 
— the glory and the glow of Veronese, Titian, or Tin- 
toret. — From the same romance is No. 71: a charm- 
ing picture in the purest style of the later Italian Renais- 
sance. 

The clear (1. 1) is the crystalline or outermost heaven 
of the old cosmography. For a fair there's fairer none: 
If you desire a BeautJ^ there is none more beautiful 
than Rosaline. 

64 xxii Another gracious lyric from an Elizabethan Song- 

book, first reprinted (it is believed) in Mr. W. J. Lin- 
ton's 'Rare Poems,' in 1883. 

65 xxiii that fair thou owest: that beauty thou ownest. 

66 XXV From one of the three Song-books of T. Campion, 

who appears to have been author of the words which 
he set to music. His merit as a lyrical poet (recognized 
in his own time, but since then forgotten) has been 
again brought to light by Mr. Bullen's taste and re- 
search: — siverving (st. 2) is his conjecture for chang- 
ing in the text of 1601. 

70 xxxi the star Whose ivorth's unknown, although his height 
be taken: apparently, Whose stellar influence is unc'al- 
cnlated, although I'lis angular altitude from the plane 
of the astrolabe or artilicial horizon used by astrologers 
has been determined. 

70 xxxii This lovely song appears, as here given, in Putten- 
ham's 'Arte of English Poesie,' 1589. A longer and 
inferior form was published in the 'Arcadia' of 1590, 
but Puttenham's prefatory words clearly assign his 
version to Sidney's own autliorship. 

73 xxxvii keel: keep cooler by stirring round. 

74 xxxix expense: loss. 
— xl prease: press. 

75 xli Nativity, once in the main of light: when a star has 

risen and entered on the full stream of lierht; — another 

of the astrological phrases no longer familiar. 

Crooked eclipses: as coming athwart the Sun's apparent 

course. 

Wordsworth, thinking probably of the 'Venus' and the 

'Lucrece,' said finely of Shakespeare: 'Shakespeare 



402 Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

PAGE NO. 

could not have written an Epic; he would have died 
of plethora of thought.' This prodigality of nature is 
exemplified equally in his Sonnets. The copious selec- 
tion here given (which from the wealth of the material, 
required greater consideration than any other portion 
of the Editor's task), — contains many that will not be 
fully felt and understood without some earnestness of 
thought on the reader's part. But he is not likely to 
regret the labour. 
76 xlii ii-pon misprision growing: either, granted in error, or, 
on the growth of contempt. 

— xliii With the tone of this Sonnet compare Hamlet's 

'Give me that man That is not passion's slave,' &c. 
Shakespeare's writings show the deepest sensitiveness 
to passion: — hence the attraction he felt in the con- 
trasting effects of apathy. 
76 xliv grame: sorrow. Renaissance influences long impeded 
the return of English poets to the charming realism 
of this and a few other poems by Wyat. 

78 xlv Pandion in the ancient fable was father to Philomela. 

79 xlvii In the old legend it is now Philomela, now Procne 

(the swallow) who suffers violence from Tereus. This 
song has a fascination in its calm intensity of passion; 
that 'sad earnestness and vivid exactness'' which Car- 
dinal Newman ascribes to the master-pieces of ancient 
poetry. 

81 1 proved: approved. 

— li censures: judges. 

— Hi Exquisite in its equably-balanced metrical flow. 

82 liii Judging by its style, this beautiful example of old 

simplicity and feeling may, perhaps, be referred to the 
earlier years of Elizabeth, Late forgot: lately. 

85 Ivii Printed in a little Anthology by Nicholas Breton, 

1597. It is, however, a stronger and finer piece of 
work than any known to be his. — St. 1 silly: simple; 
dole: grief; chief: chiefly. St. 3 // there be ... : ob- 
scure: Perhaps, if there be any who speak harshly of 
thee, thy pain may plead for pity from Fate. 
This poem, with 60 and 143, are each graceful varia- 
tions of a long popular theme. 

86 Iviii That busy archer: Cupid. Descries: used actively; 

points out. — 'The last line of this poem is a little ob- 
scured by transposition. He means. Do they call un- 
gratefulness there a virtue?' (C. I^amb). 

87 lix White lope: suggested, Mr. Bullen notes, by a passage 

in Propertius (iii, 20) describing Spirits in the lower 
world : 

Vobiscum est lope, vobiscum Candida Tyro, 

88 Ixii cypres or Cyprus,— used by the old writers for crape: 

whether from the French 'crespe or from the Island 
whence it was imported. Its accidental similarity in 



Xotes 403 

PAGE NO. 

spelling to cypress has, here and in Milton's Penseroso, 
probably confused readers. 

89 Ixiii ramage: confused noise. 

91 Ixvi 'I never saw anything like this funeral dirge,' says 
Charles Lamb, 'except the ditty which reminds Fer- 
dinand of ills drowned father in the Tempest. As that 
is of tiie water, watery; so this is of the earth, earthy. 
i-<oth have that intenseness of feeling, which seems to 
resolve itself into the element which it contemplates.' 

93 Ixx Paraphrased from an Italian madrigal 

Non so conoscer poi 

Se voi le rose, o sian le rose in voi. 

94 Ixxii crystal: fairness. 

95 Ixxiii stare: starling." 

— Ixxiv This 'Spousal Verse' was written in honour of the 

Ladies Elizabeth and Katherine Somerset. Nowhere 
has Spenser more emphatically displayed himself as 
the very poet of Beauty: The Renaissance impulse in 
England is liere seen at its highest and purest. 
The genius of Spenser, like Chaucer's, does itself justice 
only in poems of some length. Hence it is impossible 
to represent it in this volume by other pieces of equal 
merit, but of impracticable dimensions. And the same 
applies to such poems as the Lover's Lament or the 
A ncicnt Mariner. 

96 — entrailed: twisted. Feateously: elegantly. 

98 — shend: shame. 

99 — a noble peer: Robert Devereux, second Lord Essex, 

then at the height of his brief triumph after taking 
Cadiz: hence the allusion following to the Pillars of 
Hercules, placed near Gades by ancient legend, 

— — Elisa: Elizabeth. 

100 — twins of Jove: the stars Castor and Pollux: baldric, 
belt; the zodiac. 

102 Ixxix This lyric may with very high probability be as- 
signed to Campion, in whose first Book of Airs it ap- 
peared (1601). The evidence sometimes quoted ascrib- 
mg it to Lord Bacon appears to be valueless. 



Summary of Book Second. 

This division, embracing generally the latter eighty years of 
the Seventeenth century, contains the close of our t^arly poetical 
style and the commencement of the Modern. In Dryden we 
see the first master of the new: in Milton, whose genius dominates 
here as Shakespeare's in the former book, — the crown and con- 
summation of the early period. Their splendid Odes are far 
in advance of any prior attempts, Spenser's excepted: they 



404 Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

exhibit that wider and grander range whicli years and experience 
and the struggles of the time conferred on Poetry, Our Muses 
now give expression to pohtical feehng, to reUgious tliought, to 
a liigh philosophic statesmanship in writers such as Marvell^ 
Herbert, and Wotton: whilst in Marvell and Milton, again, we 
find noble attempts, hitherto rare in our literature, at pure 
description of nature, destined in our own age to be continued 
and equalled. Meanwhile the poetry of simple passion, although 
before 1660 often deformed by verbal fancies and conceits of 
thought, and afterwards by levity and an artificial tone, — pro- 
duced in Herrick and Waller some charming pieces of more fin- 
ished art than the Elizabethan: until in the courtly compUments 
of Sedlev it seems to exhaust itself, and lie almost dormant for 
the liundred years between the days of Wither and Suckhng and 
the days of Burns and Cowper. — That the change from our early 
style to the modern brought with it at first a loss of nature and 
simplicity is undeniable: yet the bolder and wider scope which 
Poetry took between 1620 and 1700, and the successful efforts 
then made to gain greater clearness in expression, in their results 
have been no slight compensation. 

PAGE NO. 

108 Ixxxv 1. 8 whist: hushed. 

— 1. 32 than: obsolete for then: Pan: used here for the 

Lord of all. 

1()!1 — 1. 38 consort: Milton's spelling of this word, here and 
elsewhere, has been followed, as it is uncertain whether 
he used it in the sense of accompanying, or simply for 
concert. 

HI — 1. 21 Lars and Lemures: household gods and spirits of 
relations dead. Flamens (1. 24) Roman priests. That 
twice-batter'd god (1. 29) Dagon. 

112 — 1. 6 Osiris, the Egy-ptian god of Agriculture (here, 
perhaps by confusion with Apis, figured as a Bull), 
was torn to pieces by Typho and embalmed after death 
in a sacred chest. This mythe, reproduced in Syria 
and Greece in the legends of Thammuz, Adonis, and 
perhaps Absyrtus, may have originally signified the 
annual death of the Sun or the Year under the influ- 
ences of the winter darkness. Horns, the son of Osiris, 
as the New Year, in his turn overcomes Typho. L. 8 
unshower'd grass: as watered by the Nile only. L. 33 
youngest-teemed: last-born. Bright-harness' d (1. 37) 
armoured. 

114 Ixxxvii The Late Massacre: the Vaudois persecution, 
carried on in 1655 by the Duke of Savoy. No more 
mighty Sonnet than this 'collect in verse,' as it has 
been justly named, probably can be found in any lan- 
gnaee. Readers should observe that it is constructed 
on the original Italian or Provencal model. This form, 
in a laneruaffe such as ours, not affluent in rhyme, pre- 
sents great difficulties: the rhymes are apt to be forced, 
or the substance commonplace. But, when success- 



.\utes 405 

PAGE NO, 

fully handled, it has a unity and a beauty of effect 
which place the strict Sonnet above the less compact 
and less lyrical systems adopted by Shakespeare, Sid- 
ney, Spenser, and other Elizabethan poets. 

115 Ixxxviii Cromwell returned from Ireland in 1650, and 
Marvell probably wrote his lines soon after, whilst liv- 
ing at Nunappleton in the Fairfax household. It is 
hence not surprising that (st. 21 — 24) he should have 
been deceived by Cromwell's professed submissiveness 
to the Parliament which, when it declined to register 
his decrees, he expelled by armed violence: — one despot- 
ism, by natural law, n'-placing another. The poet's 
insight has, however, truly prophesied that result in 
his last two lines. 

This Ode, bej'ond doubt one of the finest in our lan- 
guage, and more in Milton's style than has been reached 
by any other poet, is occasionally obscure from imita- 
tion of the condensed Latin syntax. The meaning of 
St. 5 is 'rivalry or hostility are the .same to a lofty 
spirit, and limitation more hateful than opposition.' 
'The allusion in st. 11 is to the old physical doctrines 
of the non-existence of a vacuum and the impenetra- 
bilitj^ of matter: — in st. 17 to the omen traditionally 
connected with the foundation of the Capitol at Rome: 
— farced, fated. The ancient belief that certain years 
in life complete natural periods and are hence peciuiarly 
exposed to death, is introduced in st. 26 by the word 
cUm(utc7-ic. 

118 Ixxxix Lucidas: The person here lamented is Milton's col- 
lege contemporary, Edward King, drowned in 1637 
whilst crossing from Chester to Ireland. 
Strict Pastoral Poetry was first written or perfected 
by the Dorian Creeks settled in Sicily: but the con- 
ventional use of it, <'xhi!)itefl more magnificently in 
Lycidas than in any otlier pastoral, is apjjarently of 
Roman origin. Milton, employing the noble freedom 
of a great artist, has liere united ancient mytliology, 
witli what may be called the modern mythology of 
Camus and Saint Peter, — to direct Christian images. 
Yet the poem, if it gains in historical interest, suffers 
in poetry by the harsh intrusion of the writei's narrow 
arid violent theological politics. — The metrical structure 
of this glorious elegy is partly derived from Italian 
models. 

il9 — 1. 11 Sisters of the sncrcd well: the Muses, said to fre- 
quent the Pierian Spring at the foot of Mount Olynpus. 

120 — 1. 10 Mona: Anglesea, called by the Welsh poets, the 
Dark Island, from its dense forests. Deva (1. 11) the 
Dee: a river which may have derived its magical char- 
acter from Celtic traditions: it was long the boundary 
of Briton and English. — These places are introduced, 
as being near the scene of the sliipwreck. Orpheus (1. 
14) was torii to pieces by Thracian women. Amou-ylUs 



406 Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

PAGE NO. 

and Neaera (1. 24, 25) names used here for the love- 
idols of poets: as Damoetas previously for a shepherd. 
L. 31 the blind Fury: Atropos, fabled to cut the thread 
of hfe. 

121 Ixxxix Arethuse (1. 1) and Mincius: Sicilian and Italian 

waters here alluded to as representing the pastoral 
poetry of Theocritus and Vergil. L. 4 oat: pipe, used 
here like Collins' oateyi stop L 1, No. 186, for Song. L, 
12 Hippotades: Aeolus, god of the Winds. Panope 
(1. 15) a Nereid. Certain names of local deities in the 
Hellenic mythology render some feature in the natural 
landscape, which the Greeks studied and analysed with 
their usual unequalled insight and feeling. Panope 
seems to express the boundlessness of the ocean-horizon 
v/hen seen from a height, as compared with the limited 
sky-line of the land in hilly countries such as Greece or 
Asia Minor. Camus (1. 19) the Cam: put for King's 
University. The sanguine flower (L 22) the Hyacinth 
of the ancients: probably our Iris. The Pilot (1. 25) 
Saint Peter, figuratively introduced as the head of the 
Church on earth, to foretell 'the ruin of our corrupted 
clergy,' as Milton regarded them, 'then in their heighth' 
under Laud's primacy, 

122 — 1. 1 scrannel: screeching; apparently Milton's coinage 

(Masson). L. 5 the wolf: the Puritans of the time were 
excited to alarm and persecution by a few conversions 
to Roman Catholicism which had recently occurred. 
Alpheus (1. 9) a stream in Southern Greece, supposed 
to flow underseas to join the Arethuse. Swart star 
(1. 15) the Dog-star, called swarthy because its heliacal 
rising in ancient times occurred soon after midsummer: 
1. 19 rathe: early. L. 36 moist vows: either tearful 
prayers, or prayers for one at sea. Bellcrus (1. 37) a 
giant, apparently created here by Milton to personify 
Belerium, the ancient title of the Land's End. The 
great Vision: — the story was that the Archangel Michael 
had appeared on the rock by Marazion in Mount's Bay 
which bears his name. Milton calls on him to turn 
his eyes from the south homeward, and to pity Lycidas, 
if his body has drifted into the troubled waters off the 
Land's End. Finisterre being the land due south of 
Marazion, two places in that district (then through our 
trade with Corunna probably less unfamiliar to Eng- 
lish ears), are named, — Namancos now Mujio in Galicia, 
Bayona north of the Minho, or perhaps a fortified rock 
(one of the Cies Islands) not unlike Saint Michael's 
Mount, at the entrance of Vigo Bay. 

123 Ixxxix 1. 6 ore: rays of golden light. Doric lay (1. 25) 

Sicilian, pastoral. 

125 xciii The assault was an attack on London expected in 
1642, when the troops of Charles I reached Brentford. 
'Written on his door' was in the original title of this 
sonnet. Milton was then living in Aldersgate Street. 



Notes 407 

PAGE NO. 

125 xciii The Einathian Coixqueror: When Thebes was destroyed 

(B.C. 335) and the citizens massacred by thousands, 
Alexander ordered the house of Pindar to be spared. 

126 — 1. 2, the repeated air Of sad Electra's poet: Plutarch 

has a tale tliat when the Spartan confederacy in 404 
B.C. took Athens, a proposal to demolish it was rejected 
through the effect produced on the commanders by 
hearing part of a chorus from the Electra of Euripides 
sung at a feast. There is however no apparent con- 
gruity between the lines quoted (167, 168 Ed. Dindorf) 
and the result ascribed to them. 

120 xcv A fine example of a peculiar class of Poetry; — that 
written by thoughtful men who practised this Art but 
little. Jeremy Taylor, Bishop Berkeley, Dr. Johnson, 
Lord Macaulay, have left similar specimens. 

128 xcviii These beautiful verses should be compared with 

Wordsworth's great Ode on Immortality: and a copy 
of Vaughan's very rare little volume appears in tlie 
list of Wordsworth's library. — In imaginative intensity, 
Vaughan stands beside his contemporary Marvell. 

129 xcix Favonius: the spring wind. 

130 c Themis: the goddess of justice. Skinner w^as grand- 

son by his mother to Sir E. Coke: — hence, as pointed 
out by Mr. Keightley, Milton's allusion to the bench. 
L. 8: Sweden was then at war with Poland, and France 
with the Spanish Netherlands. 

132 ciii 1. 28 Sidneian showers: either in allusion to the con- 
versations in the 'Arcadia,' or to Sidney himself as a 
model of 'gentleness' in spirit and demeanour. 

135 cv Delicate humour, delightfully united to thought, at 
once simple and subtle. It is full of conceit and para- 
dox, but these are imaginative, not as with most of 
our Seventeenth Century poets, intellectual only. 

138 ex Elizabeth of Bohemia: Daughter to James I, and an- 

cestor of Sophia of Hanover. These lines are a fine 
specimen of gallant and courtly compliment. 

139 cxi Lady M. Ley was daughter to Sir J. Ley. afterwards 

Earl of Marlborough, who died March, 1629, coinci- 
dently with the dissolution of the third Parliament of 
Charles' reign. Hence Milton poetically compares his 
death to that of the Orator Isocrates of Athens, after 
Philip's victory in 328 b.c. 

143 cxviii A masterpiece of humour, grace, and gentle feeling, 
all, with Herrick's unfailing art, kept precisely within 
the peculiar key which he chose, — or Nature for him, 
— in his Pastorals. L. 2 the god unshorn: Imberbis 
Apollo. St. 2 beads: prayers. 

146 cxxiii With better taste, and less diffuseness, Quarles 
might (one would think) have retained more of that 



408 Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

PAGE NO. 

high place which he held in popular estimate among 
his contemporaries. 

149 exxvii From Prison: to which his active support of Charles 

I twice brought the high-spirited writer. L. 7 Gods: 
thus in the original; Lovelace, in his fanciful way, mak- 
ing here a mythological allusion. Birds, commonly 
substituted, is without authority. St. 3, 1. 1 com- 
mitted: to prison. ^ 

150 cxx\'iii St. 2 1. 4 blue-god: Neptune. 

154 cxxxiii Walij waly: an exclamation of sorrow, the root 

and the pronunciation of which are preserved in the 
word caterwaul. Brae, hillside: hum, brook: husk, adorn. 
Saint Anton's Well: below Arthur's Seat by Edinburgh. 
Cramasie, crimson. 

155 cxxxiv This beautiful example of early simplicity is found 

in a Song-book of 1620. 

156 cxxxv hurd, maiden. 

157 cxxx\i corbies, crows: fail, turf: hause, neck: flieek, thatch. 

— If not in their origin, in their present form this, with 
the preceding poem and 133, appear due to the Seven- 
teenth Century, and have therefore been placed in 
Book II. 

158 cxxxvii The poetical and the prosaic, after Cowley's 

fashion, blend curiously in this deeply-felt elegy. 

162 cxli Perhaps no poem in this collection is more delicately 

fancied, more exquisitely finished. By placing his 
description of the Fawn in a young girl's mouth. Mar- 
veil has, as it were, legitimated that abundance of 
'imaginative hyperbole' to which he is always partial: 
he makes us feel it natural that a maiden's favourite 
should be whiter than milk, sweeter than sugar — 'lilies 
without, roses within.' The poet's imagination is justi- 
fied in its seeming extravagance by the intensity and 
unity with which it invests his picture. 

163 cxlii The remark quoted in the note to No. 65 applies 

equally to these truly wonderful verses. Mai-vell here 
throws himself into the very soul of the Garden with 
the imaginative intensity of SheUey in his West Wind. 
— This poem appears also as a translation in Marv^ell's 
works. The most striking verses in it, here quoted 
as the book is rare, answer more or less to stanzas 2 
and 6: — 

Alma Quies, teneo te! et te, germana"Quietis, 
Simplicitas! vos ergo diu per templa, per urbes 
Quaesivi, regum perque alta palatia, frustra: 
Sed vos hortorum per opaca silentia, longe 
Celarunt yjlantae virides, et concolor umbra. 



Xote>^ 409 

PAGE NO. 

165 cxliii St. 3 tutties: nosegaj^s. St. 4 silly: simple. 

L'Mlegro and II Fenscroso. It is a striking proof of 
Milton's astonishing power, that these, the earliest great 
Lyrics of tlie Landscape in our language, should still 
remain supreme in their style for range, variety, and 
melodious beauty. The Bright and the Thoughtful 
aspects of Nature and of Life are their subjects: but 
each is preceded by a mythological introduction in a 
mixed Classical and Italian manner. — With that of 
L' Allegro may be compared a similar mythe in the first 
Section of the first Book of S. Marmion's graceful Cupid 
and Fsyche, 1637. 

166 cxliv The mountain-nymph; compare Wordsworth's Son- 

net, No. 254. L. 38 is in apposition to the preceding, 
by a syntactical license not uncommon with Milton, 

168 — 1. 14 Cynosure; the Pole Star. Corydon, Thyrsis, &c.: 

Shepherd names from the old Idylls. Rebeck (1. 28) 
an elementary form of violin. 

169 — 1. 24 Jonson's learned sock: His comedies are deeply 

coloured by classical study. L. 28 Lydian airs: used 
here to express a light and festive style of ancient 
music. The 'Lydian Mode,' one of the seven original 
Greek Scales, is nearly identical with our 'Major.' 

170 cxlv 1. 3 bestead: avail. L. 19 starr'd Ethiop queen: Cassi- 

opeia, the legendary Queen of Ethiopia, and thence 
translated amongst the constellations. 

171 — Cynthia, the Moon: Milton seems here to have trans- 

ferred to her chariot the dragons anciently assigned to 
Demeter and to Medea. 

172 — Hermes, called Trismegistus, a mystical writer of the 

Neo-Platonist school. L. 27 Thebes, &c.: subjects of 
Athenian Tragedy. Buskiri'd (1. 30) tragic, in opposi- 
tion to sock above. L. 32 Musaeus: a poet in Mythol- 
ogy. L. 37 him that left half-told: Chaucer in his in- 
complete 'Squire's Tale.' 

173 — g}-eat bards: Ariosto, Tasso, and Spenser, are here pre- 

sumably intended. L. 9 frounced: curled. The Attic 
Boy (1. 10) Cephalus. 

174 cxlvi Emigrants supposed U. be driven towards America 

by the government of Chailes I. 

175 — 1. 9, 10. But apples, &c. A fine example of Marvell's 

imaginative hyperbole. 

cxhii 1. 6 concent: harmony. 

178 cxlix A lyric of a strange, fanciful, yet solemn beauty: — 

Cowley's style intensified by the "^ mysticism of Henry 
More. — St. 2 monument: the World. 

179 ch Entitled 'A Song in Honour of St. Cecilia's Day: i697.' 



410 Falgrave's Golden Treasury 

Summary of Book Third 

It is more difficult to characterize the English Poetry of the 
Eighteenth century than that of any other. For it was an age 
not only of spontaneous transition, but of bold experiment: it 
includes not only such absolute contrasts as distinguish the 
•Rape of the Lock' from the 'Parish Register,' but such vast 
contemporaneous dilTerences as lie between Pope and Collins, 
Burns and Cowper. Yet we may clearly trace three leading 
moods or tendencies: — the aspects of courtly or educated life 
represented by Pope and carried to exhaustion by his followers; 
the poetry of Nature and of Man, viewed through a cultivated, 
and at the same time an impassioned frame of mind by Collins 
and Gray: — lastly, the study of vivid and simple narrative, in- 
cluding natural description, begun by Gay and Thomson, pur- 
sued by Burns and others in the north, and established in England 
by Goldsmith, Percy, Crabbe, and Cowper. Great varieties in 
style accompanied these diversities in aim: poets could not always 
distinguish the manner suitable for subjects so far apart: and 
the union of conventional and of common language, exhibited 
most conspicuously by Burns, has given a tone to the poetry 
of that century which is better explained by reference to its 
historical origin than by naming it artificial. There is, again, 
a nobleness of thought, a courageous aim at high and, in a strict 
sense manly, excellence in many of the writers: — nor can that 
period be justly termed tame and wanting in originality, which 
produced poems such as Pope's Satires, Gray's Odes and Elegy, 
the ballads of Gay and Carey, the songs of Burns and Cowper, 
In truth Poetry at this, at as all times, was a more or less un- 
conscious mirror of the genius of the age: and the many complex 
causes which made the Eighteenth century the turning-time 
in modern European civilization are also more or less reflected 
in its verse. An intelligent reader will find the influence of 
Newton as markedly in the poems of Pope, as of Elizabeth in 
the plays of Shakespeare. On this great subject, however, 
these indications must here be sufficient. 



PAGE NO. 

184 cliii We have no noet more marked by rapture, by the 
ecstasy which Plato held the note of genuine inspira- 
tion, than Collins. Yet but twice or thrice do his 
lyrics reach that simplicity, that sinceram sermonis 
Atfici gratiam to which this ode testifies his enthu- 
siastic devotion. His style, as his friend Dr. Johnson 
truly remarks, was obscure; his diction often harsh 
and unskilfully laboured; he struggles nobly against 
the narrow, artificial manner of his age, but his too 
scanty years did not allow him to reach perfect mastery. 
St. 3 Hyhla: near Syracuse. Her whose . . . woe: the 
niehting'ale, 'for which Sophocles seems to have enter- 
tained a peculiar fondness'; Collins here refers to the 
famous chorus in the Oedipus at Colonus. St. 4 Cephisus: 
the stream encircling Athens on the north and west, 
oassing Colonus. St. 6 stay'd to sing: stayed her song 



Xotes 411 

PAGE NO. 

when Imperial tyranny was established at .'^.ome. St. 
7 refers to tue Italian amourist poetry ol tiie Renais- 
sance: In Collins' uay, Dante was ahnost unknown in 
England, St. 8 meeting soid: whicii moves sympatheti- 
cally towards Simpliciiy as sne comes to inspire the 
poet, St. ? Of these: jiaste and Genius. 

The Bard. In 1757, when this splendid ode was com- 
pleted, so very little had been printed, wiKUier in 
Wales or in England, in regard to Welbii potuv, that 
It is hard to discover whence Gray drt-w Jus Uymnc 
allusions. The tabled massacre of tlie Bards (.shown to 
be wJiolly groundless in Stephens' Literature of the 
Kijmrij) appears first in the family historv of Sir John 
Wyiui of Gwydip (cir. 1600), not published tin 1773; 
but tue story seems to have passed in MS. to Lane's 
History, whence it may have been taken bv Cray. 
The references to high-born Hoel and so]t Llexvetlun; to 
Cadwatlo and Uricn; may, similarly, ha\e been uerived 
from the 'Specimens' of early \velsh poetrv, by the 
Kev. E. Evans:— as, although not publishetr till 1764, 
the MS., we learn from a letter to Dr. V\harton, was in 
Gray's hands by July 1760, and mavhavertaciied him by 
1757. It is, liowe\er, doubtful wueiiier Gray (of whose 
ac(iuaintance with Welsh we have no e%iaence) must 
not liave been also aided by some Welsh scholar. He 
IS one of the poets least likely to scatter epithets at 
random: 'soft' or gentle is the epithet emphaticahy and 
specially given to Llewt-lyn in contemporary Welsh 
poetry, and is hence here used with particular propriety, 
let, witliout such assistance as we have suggested, Gray 
could hardly have selected the epithet, although applied 
to tlie King (p. 141-3) among a crowd of others, in 
Llygad Gwr's Ode, printed by Evans. — After lament- 
ing Ills comrades (st. 2, 3) the Bard prophesies tJie fate 
of Edward II, and the conquests of Edward 111 (4): 
his death and that of the Black Prince (5): of Richard 
II, with the wars of York and Lancaster, the murder of 
Henry VI {the meek usurper), and of Edward V and his 
brother (6). He turns to the glory and prosperitv fol- 
lowing the accession of the Tudors (7), through Eliza- 
beth's reign (8): and concludes with a vision of the 
■ poetry of Shakespeare and Milton. 

190 clix 1. 13 Glo'stc7-: Gilbert de Clare, son-in-law to Edward. 

Mortimer, one of the Lords Marchers of Wales, 

191 clix High-born Hoel, soft Llewellyn (1. 15); the Dissertatio 

de Bardis of Evans names the first as son to the King 
Owain Gwynedd: Llewelyn, last King of North Wales, 
wa^ murdered 1282. L. 16 Cadwallo: Cadwallon (died 
631) and Urien Rheged (early kings of Gwynedd and 
Cumbria respectively) are mentioned by Evans (p. 78) 
as bards none of whose poetry is extant. L. 20 Modred: 
Evans supplies no data for this name, which Gray (it 
has been supposed) uses for Merlin (Myrddin Wyllt), 



412 Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

PAGE NO. 

held prophet as well as poet, — The Italicized lines mark 
where the Bard's song is joined by that of his prede- 
cessors departed. L. 22 Arvo7i: the shores of Carnar- 
- vonshire opposite Anglesey. Whether intentionally or 
through ignorance of the real dates, Gray here seems to 
represent the Bard as speaking of these poets, all of 
earlier days, Llewelyn excepted, as his own contem- 
poraries at the close of the thirteenth century. 

Gray, whose penetrating and powerful genius rendered 
him"^ in many ways an initiator in advance of his age, 
is probably the first of our poets who made some acquaint- 
ance with'tlie rich and admirable poetry in which Wales 
from the Sixth Century has been fertile, — before and 
since his time so barbarously neglected, not in England 
only. Hence it has been tliolight worth while here to 
enter into a little detail upon his Cymric allusions. 

192 — I. 5 She-wolf: Isabel of France, adulterous Queen of 

Edward 11. — L. 35 Towers of Julius: the Tower of Lon- 
don, built in part, according to tradition, by JuUus 
Caesar. 

193 — 1. 2 bristled boar: the badge of Richard III. L. 8 Half 

of thy heart: Queen Eleanor died soon after the con- 
quest of Wales. L. 18 Arthur: Henry VII named his 
eldest son thus, in deference to native feeling and story, 

194 clxi The Highlanders called the battle of Culloden, Dru- 

mossie. 

195 clxii lilting, singing blithely: loaning, broad lane: bughts, 

pens: scorning, rallying: dowie, dreary: daffin' and gab- 
bin', joking and chatting: Icglin, milkpail: shearing, 
reaping: bandsters, sheaf-binders: lyart, grizzled: runkled, 
wrinkled: fleeching, coaxing: gloaming, twilight: bogle, 
ghost: dool, sorrow. 

197 clxiv The Editor has found no authoritative text of this 

poem, to his mind superior to any other of its class in 
melody and pathos. Part is probably not later than 
the seventeenth century: in other stanzas a more mod- 
ern hand, much resembling Scott's, is traceable. Logan's 
poem (163) exhibits a knowledge rather of the old 
legend than of the old verses. — Hecht, promised; the 
obsolete hight: mavis, thrush: ilka, every: lav'rock, lark: 
haughs, valley-meadows: twined, parted from: marrow, 
mate: syne, then. 

198 clxv The Royal George, of 108 guns, whilst undergoing a 

partial careening at Snithead, was overset about 10 
A.M. Aug. 29, 1782. The total loss was believed to be 
nearly 1000 souls. — This little poem might be called 
one of our trial-pieces, in regard to taste. The reader 
who feels the vigour of description and the force of 
pathos underlying Cowper's bare and truly Greek sim- 
plicity of phrase, may assure himself se valde profecisse 
in poetry. 



Notes 413 

PAGE NO. 

201 clxvii A little masterpiece in a very difficult style: Catullus 
himself could hardly have bettered it. In grace, ten- 
derness, simplicity, and humour, it is worthy of the 
Ancients: and even more so, from the completeness and 
unity of the picture presented. 

205 clxxii Perhaps no writer who has given such strong proofs 

of the poetic nature has left less satisfactory poetry 
than Thomson. Yet this song, with 'Rule Britannia' 
and a few others, must make us regret that he did not 
more seriously apply himself to lyrical writing. 

206 clxxiv With what insight and tenderness, yet in how few 

words, has this painter-poet here himself told Love's 
Secret! 

207 clxxvii 1. 1 Aeolian lyre: the Greeks ascribed the origin 

of their Lyrical Poetry to the Colonies of Aeolis in Asia- 
Minor. 

^^^ ~~ ^/'/"•acia's hills (1. 9) supposed a favourite resort of 
Mars. Feather'd king (1. 13) the Eagle of Jupiter, ad- 
mirably described by Pindar in a passage here imitated 
by Gray. Idalia (1. 19) in Cyprus, where Cythered. 
(Venus) was especially worshipped, 

209 — 1. 6 Hyperion: the Sun. St. 6—8 allude to the Poets 

of the Islands and Mainland of Greece, to those of Rome 
and of England. 

210 — 1. 27 Theban Eagle: Pindar. 

213 clxxviii 1. 5 chaste-eyed Queen: Diana. 

214 clxxix From that wild rhapsody of mingled grandeur, ten- 

derness, and obscurity, that 'medley between inspira- 
tion and possession,' which poor Smart is believed to 
have written whilst in confinement for madness. 

215 clxxxi the dreadful light: of life and experience. 

216 clxxxii Attic warbler: the nightingale. 

218 clxxxiv sleekit, sleek: bickering brattle, flittering flight: 
laith, loth: pattle, ploughstaff: whyles, at times: a daim- 
emcker, a corn-ear now and then: throve, shock: lave, 
rest: foggage, after-grass: snell, biting: but hold, with- 
out dwelling-place: thole, bear: cranreuch, hoar-frost: 
thy lane, alone: a-gley, off the right line, awry. 

225 clxxxviii stoure, dust-storm; braw, smart. 

226 clxxxix scaith, hurt: tent, guard: steer, molest. 

227 exci drumlie, muddy: birk, birch. 

228 cxcii greet, cry: daurna, dare not. — There can hardly exist 

a poem more truly tragic in the highest sense than this: 
nor, perhaps, Sappho excepted, has any Poetess equalled 



414 Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

PAGE NO. 

230 cxciii fou, merry with drink: coost, carried: unco skeigh, 

very proud: gart, forcwl: abeigh, aside: Ailsa craig, a 
rock in the Firth of Clyde: grat his een bleert, cried till 
his eyes were bleared: loiopin, leaping: linn, waterfall: 
sair, sore: smoor'd, smothered: crouse and canty, blithe 
and gay. 

231 cxciv Burns justly named this 'one of the most beautiful 

songs in the Scots or any other language.' One stanza, 
interpolated by Beattie, is here omitted: — it contains 
two good lines, but is out of harmony with the original 
poem. Bigonet, little cap: probably altered from b6- 
guinette: thraw, twist: caller, fresh. 

232 cxcv ■ Burns himself, despite two attempts, failed to im- 

prove this little absolute masterpiece of music, ten- 
derness, and simplicity: this 'Romance of a life' in 
eight lines. — Eerie: strictly, scared: uneasy. 

233 cxcvi airts, quarters: row, roll: show, small wood in a 

hollow, spinney: knowes, knolls. The last two stanzas 
are not by Burns. 

234 cxcvii jo, sweetheart: brent, smooth: pow, head. 
- — cxcviii leal, faithful. St. 3 ^ain, happy. 

235 cxcix Henry VI founded Eton. 

238 cc Written in 1773, towards the beginning of Cowper's 
second attack of melancholy madness — a time when he 
altogether gave up prayer, saying, ' For him to implore 
mercy would only anger God the more.' Yet had he 
given it up when sane, it would have been 'maior in 
sania; 

241 cciii The Editor wouid venture to class in the very first 
rank this Sonnet, which, with 204, records Cowper's 
gratitude to the Lady whose affectionate care for many 
years gave what sweetness he could enjoy to a life 
radically wretched. Petrarch's sonnets have a more 
ethereal grace and a more perfect finish; Shakespeare's 
more passion; Milton's stand supreme in stateliness; 
Wordsworth's in depth and delicacy. But Cowper's 
unites with an exquisiteness in the turn of thought 
which the ancients would have called Irony, an intensity 
of pathetic tenderness peculiar to his loving and ingen- 
uous nature. — There is much mannerism, much that is 
unimportant or of now exhausted interest in his poems: 
but where he is great, it is with that elementary great- 
ness which rests on the most universal human feelings. 
Cowper is our highest master in simple pathos. 

243 ccv Cowper's last original poem, founded upon a story 
told in Anson's 'Voyages.' It was written March 1799; 
he died in next yea'r's April. 

245 ccvi Very little except his name appears recoverable with 
regard to the author of this truly noble poem, which 



Notes 415 

PAGS MO. 

appeared in the ' Scripscrapologia, or Collins' Doggerel 
Dish of All Sorts,' with three or four other pieces ot 
merit, Birmingham, 1804. — Everlasting: used with 
side-aUusion to a cloth so named, at the time when 
Collin£ wrote. 



Summary of Book Fourth 

It proves sufficiently the lavish wealth of our own age in Poetry 
that the pieces which, without conscious departure from the 
standard of Excellence, render this Book by far the longest, 
were with very few exceptions composed during the first thirty 
years of the Nineteenth century. Exhaustive reasons can 
hardly be given for the strangely sudden appearance of indi- 
vidual genius: that, however, which assigns the splendid national 
achievements of our recent poetry to an impulse from the France 
of the first Kepubhc and Empire is inadequate. The first French 
Revolution was rather one result, — the most conspicuous, in- 
deed, yet itself in great measure essentiaUy retrogressive, — of 
that wider and more potent spirit which through enquiry and 
attempt, through strength and weakness, sweeps mankind round 
the circles (not, as some too confidently argue, of Advance, but) 
of gradual Transformation: and it is to this that we must trace 
the literature of Modern Europe. But, without attempting dis- 
cussion on the motive causes of Scott, Wordsworth, Shelley, and 
others, we may observe that these Poets carried to further per- 
fection the later tendencies of the Century preceding, in sim- 
plicity of narrative, reverence for human Passion and Character 
in every sphere, and love of Nature for herself: — that, whilst 
maintaining on the whole the advances in art made since the 
Restoration, they renewed the half-forgotten melody and depth 
of tone which marked the best Elizabethan writers: — that, lastly, 
to what was thus inherited they added a richness in language 
and a variety in metre, a force and fire in narrative, a tender- 
ness and bloom in feeUng, an insight into the finer passages of 
the Soul and the inner meanings of the landscape, a larger sense 
of Humanity, — hitherto scarcely attained, and perhaps unat- 
tainable even by predecessors of not inferior individual genius. 
In a word, the Nation wliich, after the Greeks in their glory, 
may fairly claim that during six centuries it has proved itself 
the most richly gifted of all nations for Poetrv, expressefi in these 
men the highest strength and prodigality of its nature. They 
interpreted the aere to itself — hence the many phases of thought 
and style they present: — to sympathize with each, fervently and 
impartially, without fear and without fancifulness, is no doubt- 
ful step in the hie-her education of the soul. For purity in taste 
is absolutely proportionate to strength — and when once the 
mind has raised itself to grasp and to delight in excellence, those 
who love most will be found to love most wdsely. 

But the gallerv which this Book offers to the reader will aid 
him more than any preface. It is a royal Palace of Poetry which 
he is invited to enter: 



416 Palgrave^s Golden Treasury 

Adparet domus intus, et atria lone:a patescunt — 
though it is, indeed, to the sympathetic eye only that its treas- 
ures will be visible. 

247 ccviii This beautiful lyric, printed in 1783, seems to 
anticipate in its imaginative music that return to our 
great early age of song, which in Blake's own lifetime 
was to prove, — how gloriously! that the English Muses 
had resumed their 'ancient melody': — Keats, Shelley, 
Byron, — he overlived them all. 

249 ccx st07it Cortez: History would here suggest Balboa: 
(A.T.) It mav be noticed, that to find in Chapman s 
Homer the 'pure serene' of the original, the reader 
must bring with him the imagination of the youthful 
poet; — he must be 'a Greek himself,' as Shelley finely 
said of Keats. 

252 ccxii The most tender and true of Byron's smaller poems. 

253 ccxiii This poem exemplifies the peculiar skill with which 

Scott employs proper names: — a rarely misleading sign 
of true poetical genius. 

263 ccxxvi Simple as Lucy Gray seems, a mere narrative of 
what 'has been, and may be again,* yet every touch 
in the child's picture is marked by the deepest and 
purest ideal character. Hence, pathetic as the situa- 
tion is, this is not strictly a pathetic poem, such as 
Wordsworth gives us in 221, Lamb in 264, and Scott 
in his Maid of Neidpath, — 'almost more pathetic/ as 
Tennyson once remarked, 'than a man has the right 
to be.' And Lyte's lovely stanzas (224) suggest, per- 
haps, the same remark. 

272 ocxxxv In this and in other instances the addition Cor 
the change) of a Title has been risked, in hope that the 
aim of the piece following may be grasped more clearly 
and immediately. 

278 ccxiii This beautiful Sonnet was the last word of a youth, 
in whom, if the fulfillment may ever safely be pro- 
phesied fror.i the promise, England lost one of the 
most rarely gifted in the long roll of her poets. Shakes- 
peare and Milton, had their lives been closed at twenty- 
five, would (so far as we know) have left poems of 
less excellence and hope than the youth who, from 
the petty school and the London surgery, passed at 
once to a place with them of 'high collateral glory.' 

280 ccxlv It is impossible not to regret that Moore has written 

so little in this sweet and genuinely national style. 

281 ccxlvi A masterly example of Byron's command of strong 

thoueht and close reasoning in verse: — as the next is 

equally characteristic of Shelley's wayward intensity. 

29C ccliii Bonnivard, a Genevese, was imprisoned by the Duke 

of Savoy in Chillon on the laKe of Geneva for bw (y>ur- 



Notes 417 

PAGE NO. 

ageous defence of his country against the tyranny with 
which Piedmont threatened it during the first half of 
the Seventeenth century. — This noble Sonnet is worthy 
to stand near Milton's on the Vaudois massacre. 

291 ccliv Switzerland was usurped by the French under Napo- 
leon in 1800: Venice in 1797 (255). 

293 cchx This battle was fought Dec. 2, 1800, between the 
Austrians under Archduke John and the French under 
Moreau, in a forest near Munich. Hohen Linden means 
High Limetrees. 

297 cclxii After the capture of Madrid by Napoleon, Sir J. 
Moore retreated before Soult and Ney to Corunna, and 
was killed whilst covering the embarkation of his troops. 

307 cclxxii The Mermaid was the club-house of Shakespeare, 

Ben Jonson, and other choice spirits of that age. 

308 cclxxiii Maisie: Mary. — Scott has given us nothing more 

complete and lovely than this little song, which imites 
simplicity and dramatic power to a wild-wood music 
of the rarest quality. No moral is drawn, far less any 
conscious analysis of feeling attempted: — the pathetic 
meaning is left to be suggested by the mere present- 
ment of the situation. A narrow criticism has often 
named this, which may be called the Homeric manner, 
superficial, from its apparent simple facility; but first- 
rate excellence in it is in truth one of the least com- 
mon triumphs of Poetry. — This style should be com 
pared with what is not less perfect in its way, the search - 
mg out of inner feeling, the expression of hidden mean- 
ings, the revelation of the heart of Natiue and of the 
Soul within the Soul, — the analytical method, in short, 
— most completely represented by Wordsworth and by 
Shelley. 
313 cclxxvii Wolfe resembled Keats, not only in his early death 
by consumption and the fluent freshness of his poetical 
style, but in beauty of character: — brave, tender, ener- 
getic, unselfish, modest. Is it fanciful to find some 
reflex of these qualities in the Burial and Mary? Out 
of the abundance of the Tieart . . . 

'314 cclxx^-iii correi: covert on a hillside. Cumber: trouble. 

315 cclxxx This book has not a few poems of greater power and 

more perfect execution than Agnes and the extract 
which we have ventured to make from the deep-hearted 
author's Sad Thoughts (No. 224). But none are more 
emphatically marked by the note of exquisiteness. 

316 cclxxxi St. 3 inch: island. 

320 cclxxxiii From Poetry foi Children (1809), by Cliarles and 
Mary Lamb. This tender and original little piece 
seerns clearly to reveal the work of that noble-minded 
and afflicted sister, who was at once the happiness, the 



418 Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

PAGE NO» 

misery, and the life-long blessing of her equally noble- 
minded brother. 

328 cclxxxix This poem has an exaltation and a glory, joined 
with an exquisiteness of expression, which place it in the 
highest rank among the many masterpieces of its illus- 
trious Author. 

339 ceo interlunar swoon: interval of the moon's invisibility. 

344 ccciv Calpe: Gibraltar, Lofoden: the Maelstrom whirl- 

pool off the N.W. coast of Norway. 

345 cccv This lovely poem refers here and there to a ballad 

by Hamilton on the subject better treated in 163 and 
164. 

357 cccxv Arcturi: seemingly used for northern stars. And 

wild roses, &c. Our language has perhaps no line mod- 
ulated with more subtle sweetness. 

358 cccxvi Coleridge describes this poem as the fragment of 

a dream-vision, — perhaps, an opium-dream? — which 
composed itself in his mind when fallen asleep after 
reading a few lines about 'the Khan Kubla' in Pur- 
chas' Pilgrimage. 

362 cccxviii Ceres' daughter: Proserpine. God of Torment: 
Pluto. 

370 cccxxi The leading idea of this beautiful description of a 

day's landscape in Italy appears to be — On the voyage 
of life are many moments of pleasure, given by the 
sight of Nature, who has power to heal even the worldli- 
ness and the uncharity of man. 

371 — L 23 Amphitrite was daughter to Ocean. 

375 cccxxii L 21 Maenad: a frenzied Nymph, attendant on 

Dionysos in the Greek mythology. May we not call 
this the most vivid, sustained, and impassioned amongst 
all Shelley's magical personifications of Nature? 

376 — 1. 5 Plants under water sympathize with the seasons 

of the land, and hence with the winds which affect 
them. 

377 cccxxiii Written soon after the death, by shipwreck, ot 

Wordsworth's brother John. This poem may be pro- 
fitably compared with Shelley's following- it. Each 
is the most complete expression of the innermost spirit 
of his art given by these great Poets: — of that Idea 
which, as in the rase of the true Painter, (to quote the 
words of Revnolds,) 'subsists only in the mind: The 
sight never beheld it, nor has-'.the hand expressed it: 
it is an idea rp=iding in the breast of the artist, which 
he is always labouring to impart, and which he dies 
at lapt, without imparting.' 

378 — the •\ma •ns numan race. 



Notes 419 

PAGE NO. 

381 cccxxvii the Royal Saint: Henry VI. 

381 cccxxviii st. 4 this folk: its has been here plausibly but, 
perhaps, unnecessarily, conjectured. — Every one knows 
the general story of the Italian Renaissance, of the 
Revival of Letters. — From Petrarch's day to our own, 
that ancient world has renewed its youth: Poets and 
artists, students and thinkers, have yielded themselves 
wholly to its fascination, and deeply penetrated its 
spirit. Yet perhaps no one more truly has Aivified, 
whilst idealizing, the picture of Greek country life in 
the fancied Golden Age, than Keats in these lovely (if 
somewhat unequally executed) stanzas: — his quick 
imagination, by a kind of 'natural magic,' more than 
supplying the scholarship which his youth had no 
opportunity of gaining. 

155 cxxxiv These stanzas are by Richard Verstegan ( — c, 1635), 
a poet and antiquarian, published in his rare Odes 
(1601), under the title Our Blessed Ladies Lullaby, and 
reririnted by Mr. Orby Shipley in his beautiful Carmina 
Mariana (1893). The four stanzas here given form 
tJtie opening of a hsnnn of twenty-four. 



INDEX OF WRITERS 

WITH DATES OF BIRTH AND DEATH 



PAGE 

Alexander, William (1580-1640). 

To Aurora 68 

Baubauld, Anna La'titia (lT4o-lS2"). 

To Life 246 

Bauxefield, Richard (ICtli century K 

The Nightingale 77 

Beaumont, Francis (1586-1616). 

On the Tombs in Westminster Abbey 123 

Blake, William (1757-1827). 

Love's Secret 206 

Infant Joy 215 

A Cradle Song 215 

To the Muses 247 

Burns, Robert (1750-1796). 

Lament for Culloden 194 

A Farewell 202 

Ye Banks and Braes o' Bonnie Vova 207 

To a Mouse 218 

Marv Morison 225 

Bonnie Lesley 226 

O my Luve's like a red, rod ro^?;> 227 

Highland Mary 277 

Duncan Gray 230 

Jean 233 

John Anderson 234 

Byron, George Gordon Noel (1788-1824). 

All for Love 252 

There be none of Beauty's daughters 254 

^She walks in beauty, like the night 256 

When we two parted 271 

421 



422 Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

PAGE 

Byron, G. G. N. (continued) . 

Elegy on Thyrza 281 

On the Castle of Chillon 290 

^ ^Youth and Age 302 

:;;2^Elegy 312 

Campbell, Thomas (1777-1844). 

Lord Ullin's Daughter 261 

To the Evening Star 268 

Earl March look'd on his dying child 278 

Ye Mariners of England 285 

Battle of the Baltic 287 

Hohenlinden 293 

The Beech Tree's Petition 333 

Ode to Winter 344 

Song to the Evening Star 354 

The Soldier's Dream 356 

The River of Life 388 

Campion, Thomas (c. 1567-1620). 

Basia 66 

Advice to a Girl . . . .' 66 

In Imagine Pertransit Homo 80 

Sleep, angry beauty, sleep 81 

A Renunciation 84 

O Crudelis Amor 87 

Sic Transit 101 

The man of life upright 102 

A Hymn in Praise of Neptune 130 

Fortunati Nimium 165 

Carew, Thomas (1589-1639). 

The True Beauty 140 

Caret, Henry ( 1743). 

Sally in our Alley 201 

CiBBER, Colley (1671-1757). 

The Blind Boy 186 

Coleridge, Hartley (1796-1849). 

She is not fair to outward view 257 

Coleridge, Samuel Taylor (1772-1834). 

Love (Genevieve) 249 

Kubla Khan 358 

Youth and Age 383 

Collins, John (18th century). 

Tomorrow 245 

Collins, William (1720-1756). 

Ode to Simplicity 184 

Ode written in 1746 194 

The Pasi^ions 211 

Ode to Evening 220 



Index of Writers 423 

PAGE 

Cowley, Abraham (1618-1667). 

A Supplication 151 

On tlie Death of Mr. William Hcrvey 158 

CowPER, William (1731-1800). 

Loss of the Roval George 198 

To a Young Lacly 206 

The Poplar Field 217 

The Shrubbery 2 ;8 

The Solitude of Alexander Selkirk 240 

To Mary Unwin 241 

To the same 242 

The Castaway 243 

Crashaw, Richard (1615 ?-l 652). 

Wishes for the Supposed Mistress 132 

CUNXIXGHAM, Allan (1784-1842). 

A wet sheet and a flowing sea 285 

Daniel, Samuel (1562-1610). 

Care-Charmer Sleep 78 

Dekker, Thomas ( 163S?). 

The Happy Heart 100 

DEyERETTX, Robert (Earl of Essex) (15G7-1G01). 

A Wish 105 

Donne, John (1573-1631). 

Present in Absence . 58 

Drayton, Michael (1563-16.",1). 

Love's Farewell . 80 

Drummond, William (1585-1649). 

Summons to Love 52 

A Lament 88 

To his Lute 89 

This life, which seems so fair . . 101 

The Lessons of Nature 103 

Doth then the world go thus? 104 

Saint John Baptist 105 

Dryden, John (1631-1700). 

Song for St. Cecilia's Day, 1GS7 113 

Alexander's Feast 179 

Elliott, Jane (18th oenturv). 

The Flowers of the Forest (Flodden) 195 

Fletcher, John (1576-1625). 

Melancholy 153 

Gay, John (1685-1732). 

Black-eyed Susan .... o ...... . 199 



424 Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

PAGE 

Goldsmith, Oliver (1728-1774). 

When lovelj woman stoops to folly 206 

Graham, Robert (1735-1797). 

If doughty deeds my lady please 203 

Gray, Thomas (1716-1771). 

Ode on the Pleasure arising from Vicissitude . . 183 

On a Favourite Cat 187 

The Bard 190 

The Progress of Poesy 207 

Ode on the Spring 216 

Elegy written in a Country Churchyard .... 222 
Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College . . . 235 
Hymn to Adversity 238 

Greene, Robert (15617-1592). 

Sephestia's Song to her Child 87 

IlABiNGTON, William (1605-1645). 

Nox Nocti Indicat Scientiam 176 

Herbert, George (1593-1632). 

The Gifts of God 128 

Herrick, Robert (1591-1G74?). 

Counsel to Girls 13 < 

To Dianeme 140 

Corinna's Maying 143 

The Poetry of Dress, I 145 

" " "II 145 

To Anthea 147 

To Blossoms 160 

To Daffodils 161 

Heywood, Thomas ( 1649?). 

Give my Love good-morrow 95 

Hood, Thomas (1798-1845). 

Past and Present 304 

The Bridge of Sighs 309 

The Death Bed 315 

JONSON, Ben (1574-1637). 

The Noble Nature 127 

Hymn to Diana 131 

To Celia 142 

Keats, John (179.5-1821). 

Ode on the Poets 247 

On first looking into Chapman's Homer .... 249 

Happy Insensibility 272 

La Belle Dame sans Merci 274 

Bright Star ! 278 

The Terror of Death 279 

The Mermaid Tavern . • -, ^07 



Index of Writers 425 

PAGE 

Keats, J. {continued). 

^ — -Ode to a Nightingale 329 

To one who has been long in city pent 332 

Ode to Autumn 343 

The Realm of Fancy 360 

Ode on a Grecian Urn 381 

The Human Seasons 389 

Lamb, Mary (1764-1847). 

In Memoriam . . . • 320 

Lamb, Charles (1775-1835). 

The Old Familiar Faces 300 

Hester 312 

On an Infant dying as soon as born 318 

Lindsay, Anne (1750-1825). 

Auld Robin Gray 228 

Lodge, Thomas (1556-1625). 

Rosaline 02 

Rosalynd's Madrigal 93 

Logan, John (1748-17881. 

The Braes of Yarrow 196 

Lovelace, Richard (1618-1658). 

To Lucasta, on going to the Wars 138 

To Althea from Prison 149 

To Lucasta, going beyond the Seas 150 

Lylye, John (1554-1600). 

Cupid and Campaspe 94 

Lyte, Henry Francis (1793-1847). 

A Lost Love 261 

Agnes 315 

Marlowe, Christopher (1562-1593). 

The Passionate Shepherd to his Love 55 

Marvell, Andrew (1620-1678). 

Horatian Ode, upon Cromwell's return from Ireland 115 

The Picture of little T. C 135 

The Girl describes her Fawn 162 

Thoughts in a Garden 163 

Song of the Emigrants in Bermuda 174 

MiCKLE, William Julius (1734-1788). 

The Sailor's Wife 231 

Milton, John (1608-1674). 

Ode on the Morning of Christ's Nativity .... 106 

On the late Massacre in Piedmont 114 

Lycidas 118 



426 Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

PAGE 

Milton, J. {continued). 

When the Assault was intended to the City . . . 125 

On his Blindness 126 

To Mr. Lawrence 129 

To Cyriack Skinner 130 

To the Lady Margaret Ley 139 

L'Allegro 166 

II Penseroso 170 

At a Solemn Music 175 

Moore, Thomas (1780-1852). 

Echoes 267 

At the mid hour of nig'.it 280 

Pro Patria Mori 296 

The Journey Onwards ' . 301 

The Light of other Days 805 

Nairn, Carolina (1766-1845). 

The Land o' the Leal 234 

Nash, Thomas (1567-1601?). 

Spring 51 

NouRiR, John a657-1711). 

Hymn to Darkness 178 

Philips, Ambrose (1671-1749). 

To Charlotte Pulteney 188 

Pope. Alexander (1688-1744). 

Solitude 186 

Prior, Matthew (1662-1721). 

The merchant, to secure his treasure 205 

QuARLES, Francis (1592-1644). 

A Mystical Ecstasy 146 

Rogers, Samuel (1762-1855). 

The Sleeping Beauty 204 

A Wish 219 

Scott. Walter (1771-1832). 

The Outlaw 253 

Jock of Hazeldean 265 

A Serenade 267 

Where shall the Lover rest? 272 

The Rover 275 

The Maid of Neidpath 277 

Gathering Song of Donald the Black 283 

The Pride of Youth 308 

Coronach 314 

Rosabelle 316 

Hunting Song • 322 

Datur Hora Quieti 354 



index of Writers 427 

PAGE 

Sbdlby, Charles (1639-1701). 

Child and Maiden 136 

Not, Celia, that I juster am 148 

Shakespeare, William (1564-161G). 

The Fairy Life, I 52 

" "II 52 

Sonnet-Time and Love, I 54 

"II 54 

A Madrigal 56 

Under the greenwood tree 57 

It was a lover and his lass 58 

Sonnet — Absence 59 

59 

" A Consolation 60 

" The Unchangeable 61 

Sonnet 61 

To his Love 65 

" " " 65 

Love's Perjuries 67 

Sonnet — True Love 70 

Carpe Diem 72 

Winter 73 

Sonnet — That time of year 73 

" Memory 74 

" Revolutions 75 

" Farewell ! 75 

The Life without Passion ...... 76 

Frustra — Take, O take those lips away 79 

Sonnet — Blind Love 81 

Blow, blow, thou winter wind 84 

Dirge of Love 88 

Fidele — Fear no more the heat 90 

A Sea Dirge 90 

Sonnet — Post Mortem 91 

The Triumph of Death 92 

Young Love •. 92 

Sonnet — Soul and Bodv 102 

The World's Way 104 

Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822). 

The Indian Serenade 255 

-I fear thy kisses, gentle maiden 258 

Love's Philosophy .* 266 

To the Night 269 

The Flight of Love 276 

One word is too often profaned 283 

Stanzas written in Dejection near Naples .... 306 

To a Skylark 324 

Ozymandias of Egvpt 332 

To a Ladv. with a Guitar 338 

The Invitation 349 

The Recollection 351 

To the Moon 355 

A Dream of the Unknowoi 357 

Written among the Eugauean Hills ' . 370 



428 Falgrave's Golden Treasury 

PAGE 

Shelley, P. B. (continued) . 

- .Odp to the West \Yincl 875 

The Poet's Dream 379 

A Dirge 389 

Threnos . . . . • 390 

Music, when soft voices die 396 

Shirley, James (1596-1666). 

The Last Conqueror 124 

Death the Leveller 124 

Sidney, Philip (1554-1586). 

Via Amoris 59 

A Ditty 70 

Sleep 74 

The Nightingale 78 

The Moon 86 

Smart, Christopher (1722-1770). 

The Song of David 214 

SouTHEY, Robert (1774-1843). 

After Blenheim 294 

The Scholar 307 

Spenser. Edmund (1553-1598-9). 

Prothalamion 95 

Suckling, .Tohn (1608-9-1641). 

Encouragements to a Lover 150 

Sylvester, Joshua (1563-1618). 

Love's Omnipresence 71 

Thomson, .Tames (1700-1748). 

Rule Britannia • • • , 189 

For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove 205 

Vaughan, Henry (1621-1695). 

The Retreat 128 

Friends in Paradise 159 

A Vision 179 

Verstegan, Richard (c. 1635). 

Upon my lap my sovereign sits . loD 

Waller, Edmund (1605-1687). 

Go, lovely Rose ifj 

On a Girdle l*^ 

Webster, John ( 1638?). 

A Land Dirge ^^ 

WiLMOT, John (1647-1680). 

Constancy ^^' 



Index of Writers 429 

PAGE 

Wither, Oeorge (1588-1667). 

The Manly Heart 152 

Wolfe, Charles (1791-1823). 

The Burial of Sir John Moore 297 

To Mary 313 

Wordsworth, William (1770-1850). 

She was a phantom of delight 256 

She dwelt among the untrodden ways 258 

I travell'd among unknown men ." 258 

The Education of Nature 259 

A slumber did my spirit seal 280 

Lucy Gray 263 

To a distant Friend 270 

Desideria 2S0 

Ode to Duty 289 

England and Switzerland, 1802 291 

On the extinction of the Venetian Republic . . . 291 

London, 1802 292 

" 292 

When I have borne in memory 293 

Simon Lee 298 

A Lesson C03 

The Affliction of ]\Iargaret Z20 

^ To the Skylark *^23 

The Green Linnet .•:27 

^ To the Cuckoo 328 

^Upon Westminster Bridge 331 

Composed at Neidpath Castle 333 

Admonition to a Traveller 334 

To the Highland Girl of Inversneyde 335 

The Reaper '. 337 

The Reverie of poor Susan . 338 

■ <rhe Daffodils \ , 341 

To the Daisy .' .' 341 

Yarrow Unvisitcd. 1803 ] . 345 

Yarrow Visited, 1814 347 

By the Sea 353 

To Sleep ;>55 

The Inner Vision 359 

Written in Early Spring 362 

Ruth, or the Influences of Nature \ 363 

Nature and the Poet 377 

Glen-Almain, the Narrow Glen .' * 379 

The World is too much with us ', \ 380 

Within King's College Chapel, Cambridge .... 381 

The Two April Mornings 384 

The Fountain \ \ 3§6 

The Trossachs ! ! ! .':90 

Ss m^ M -Y heart leaps up \ \ 39^ 

•^>*cOde on Intimations of Immortality . . . . \ \ 391 

WOOTTON, Henry (1568-1639). 

Character of a Happy Life 126 

Elizabeth of Bohemia ! ! 138 



430 Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

PAGE 
Wyat, Thomas (1503-1542). 

A Supplication .68 

The Lover's Appeal 76 

ANONTMors. 

Omnia Vincit 56 

Colin 63 

A Picture 64 

A Song for Music 64 

In Lacrimas 69 

Love's Insight 71 

An honest Autolycus 72 

The Unfaithful ShephcrtL^ss 82 

Advice to a Lover 83 

A sweet Lullaby 85 

A Dilemma 93 

The Great Adventurer 134 

Love in thy youth, fair Maid 140 

Cherry Ripe 142 

My Love in her attire 146 

Love not me for comely grace 148 

Forsaken 154 

Fair Helen 156 

The Twa Corbies 157 

Willie DroM^ned in Yarrow 197 

Absence 232 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES 



PAGE 

A Chieftain to the Highlands bound 261 

A child's a plaything for an hour 320 

A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by 355 

A slumber did my spirit seal 260 

A sweet disorder in the dress 145 

A weary lot is thine, fair maid 275 

A wet sheet and a flowing sea 285 

Absence, hear thou this protestation £8 

Ah, Chloris! could I now but sit 136 

Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh 267 

All in the Downs the fleet was moor'd 199 

All thoughts, all passions, all delights 249 

And are ye sure the news is true 231 

And is this — Yarrow? — This the Stream 347 

And thou art dead, as young and fair 281 

And wilt thou leave me thus 76 

Ariel to Miranda:— Take 338 

Art thou pale for weariness 355 

Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers 100 

As it fell upon a day 77 

As I was walking all alane 157 

As slow our ship her foamy track 301 

At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears . . 338 

At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly . 280 

Avenge, O Lord! Thy slaughter'd saints, whose bones . . 114 

Awake, Aeolian lyre, awake 207 

Awake, awake, my Lyre 151 

Bards of Passion and of Mirth 247 

Beauty sat bathing by a spring 63 

Behold her, single in the field 337 

Being your slave, what should I do but tend 59 

Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed 327 

Best and brightest, come away 349 

Bid me to live, and I will live 147 

Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy 175 

Blow, blow, thou winter wind 84 

Bright Star! would I were steadfast as thou art .... 278 

Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren 91 

Calm was the day, and through the trembling air ... . 95 

Captain, or Colonel, or Knight in Arms 125 

Care-charmer Sleep, son of the Sable Night 78 

431 



432 Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

PAGE 

Come away, come away, Death 88 

Come, cheerful day, part of my Ufe to me 101 

Come little babe, come silly soul 85 

Come live with me and be my Love 55 

Come, Sleep: O Sleep! the certain knot of peace 74 

Come unto these yellow sands 52 

Crabbed Age and Youth 56 

Cupid and my Campaspe play'd 94 

Cyriack, whose grandsire, on the royal bench. 130 

Daughter of Jove, relentless power 238 

Daughter to that good Earl, once President 139 

Degenerate Douglas! oh, the unworthy lord 333 

Doth then the world go thus, doth all thus move .... 104 

Down in yon garden sweet and gay 197 

Drink to me only with thine eyes 142 

Duncan Gray cam here to woo 230 

Earl March look'd on his dying child 278 

Earth has not anything to show more fair 331 

E'en Uke two little bank-dividing brooks 146 

Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind 290 

Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky * 323 

Ever let the Fancy roam 360 

Fain would I change that note 56 

Fair Daffodils, we weep to see 161 

Fair pledges of a fruitful tree 160 

Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing 75 

Fear no more the heat o' the sun 90 

Fine knacks for ladies, cheap, choice, brave and new ... 72 

Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow 80 

For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove 205 

Forget not yet the tried intent 68 

Four Seasons fill the measure of the year ....... 389 

From Harmony, from heavenly Harniony 113 

From Stirling Castle we had seen 345 

Full fathom five thy father lies 90 

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may 137 

Gem of the crimson-colour'd Eveh 268 

Get up, get up for shame! The blooming morn 143 

Go fetch to me a pint o' wine 202 

Go, lovely Rose 141 

Hail thou most sacred venerable thing 178 

Hail to thee, blithe Spirit 324 

Happy the man, whose wish and care 186 

Happy those early days, when I 128 

Happy were he could finish forth his fate 105 

He that loves a rosy cheek 140 

He is gone on the mountain , . 314 

Hence, all you vain delights 153 

Hence, loathed Melancholy 166 

Hence, vain deluding Joys 170 

He sang of God, the mighty source . . . . » 214 

Kigh-way, since you my chief Parnassus be 59 



Index of First Lines 433 

PAGE 

How happy is he born and taught 126 

How Hke a winter hath my absence been 60 

How sleep the brave who sink to rest 194 

How sweet the answer Echo makes 267 

How vainly men themselves amaze 163 

I am monarch of all I survey 240 

I arise from dreams of Thee 255 

I cannot change, as others do 137 

I dream'd that as I wander'd by the way 357 

I fear thy kisses, gentle maiden 258 

I have had plaj^mates, I have had companions 300 

I have no name 215 

I heard a thousand blended notes 362 

I meet thy pensive, moonlight face 261 

I met a traveller from an antique land 332 

I remember, I remember 304 

I saw Eternity the other night 179 

I saw her in childhood 315 

I saw my lady weep 69 

I saw where in the shroud did lurk 318 

I tr'avell'd among unknown men 258 

I wander'd lonely as a cloud 341 

I was thy neiglibour once, thou rugged Pile 377 

I wish I were where Helen lies 156 

If aught ^f oaten stop or pastoral song 220 

If doughtv deeds my lady please 203 

If I had thought thou couldst have died 313 

If Thou survive my well-contented day 91 

If to be absent were to be 150 

I'm wearing awa', Jean 234 

In a drear-night ed December 272 

In the downhill of life, when I find I'm declining .... 245 

In the sweet shire of Cardigan . . . ■ 298 

In this still place, remote from men 379 

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan 358 

It is a beauteous evening, calm and free 353 

It is not growing like a tree 127 

It was a dismal and a fearful night 158 

It was a lover and his lass 58 

It was a summer evening 294 

I've heard them lilting at our ewe-milking 195 

Jack and Joan, they think no ill 165 

John Anderson my jo, John 234 

Lady, when I behold the roses sprouting 93 

Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son 129 

Let me not to the marriage of true minds 70 

Life! I know not what thou art 246 

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore ... 75 

Like to the clear in highest sphere 62 

Love in my bosom, Hke a bee 93 

Love in thy youth, fair Maid, be wise i40 

Love not me for comely grace 148 

Lol where the rosy-bosbm'd Hours 216 



434 Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

PAGE 

Many a green isle needs must be 370 

Mary! I want a lyre with other strings -241 

Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour 292 

Mine be a cot beside the hill 219 

Mortality, behold and fear 123 

Most sweet it is witli unuplifted eyes 359 

Much have I travcll'd in tlie realnis of cold 249 

Music, when soft voices die 396 

My days among the Dead are past 307 

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains 329 

My heart leaps up wlien I behold 391 

My Love in her attire doth shew her wit 146 

My lute, be as thou wert when thou didst grow .... 89 

My thoughts hold mortal strife 88 

My true-love hath my heart, and I have his 70 

Never love unless you can 66 

Never seek to tell thy love 206 

No longer mourn for me when I am dead 92 

Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note 297 

Not, Celia, that I juster am 148 

Now the golden Morn aloft 183 

Now the last day of many days 351 

O blithe new-comer! I have heard 328 

O Brignall banks are wild and fair 253 

O Friend! I know not which way I must look 292 

O happy shad^es! to me unblest 238 

O if thou knew'st how thou thyself dost harm 68 

O leave this barren spot to me , . 333 

O listen, listen, ladies gay 316 

O lovers' eyes are sharp to see 277 

O Mary, at thy window be 225 

O me! what eyes hath love put in my head 81 

O Mistress mine, where are you roaming 72 

O my Luve's like a red, red rose 227 

O never say that I was false of heart 61 

O saw ye bonnie Lesley 226 

O say what is that thing call'd Light 186 

O talk not to me of a name great in story 252 

O Thou, by Nature taught 184 

O waly waly up the bank 154 

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms 274 

O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being . . . 375 

O World! O Life! O Time 390 

Obscurest night involved the sky 243 

Of all the girls that are so smart 201 

Of a' the airts the wind can blaw 233 

Of Nelson and the North . 287 

Of Neptune's empire let us sing 130 

Of this fair volume which we World do name 103 

Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray 263 

Oft in the stiUy night 305 

Oh snatch'd away in beauty's bloom 312 

On a day, alack the day 67 

On a Poet's lips I slept 379 



Index of First Lines 435 

PAGE 

Once did She hold the gorgeous East in fee 291 

One more Unfortunate 309 

One word is too often profaned 283 

On Linden, when the sun was low 293 ■ 

Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lower'd . . 356 

Over the mountains 134 

Pack, clouds, away, and welcome day 95 

Phoebus, arise 52 

Pibroch of Donuil Dhu 283 

Poor Soul, the centre of my sinful earth 102 

Proud Maisie is in the wood 308 

Queen and Huntress, chaste and fair 131 

Rough Wind, that moanest loud 389 

Ruin seize thee, ruthless King 190 

Season of mist and mellow fruitfulness 343 

See with what simplicity 135 

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day 65 

Shall I, wasting in despair 152 

She dwelt among the untrodden ways 258 

She is not fair to outward view 257 

She walks, in beauty, like the night 256 

She was a Phantom of delight 256 

Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea ... 54 

Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part .... 80 

Sleep, angry beauty, sleep and fear not me 81 

Sleep on, and dream of Heaven awhile 204 

Sleep, sleep, beauty bright 215 

Souls of Poets dead and gone 307 

Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king . . 51 

Star that bringest home the bee 354 

Stern Daughter of the Voice of God 289 

Surprized by joy — impatient as the wind 280 

Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes 140 

Sweet Highland Girl, a very shower 335 

Sweet Love, if thou wilt gain a monarch's glory .... 64 

Sweet stream, that w'inds through yonder glade 204 

Swiftly w'alk over the western w'ave 269 

Take, O take those lips away 79 

Tax not the royal Saint with vain expense 381 

Tell me not. Sweet, I am unkind , 138 

Tell me where is Fancy bred 92 

That time of year thou may'st in me behold 73 

That which her slender waist confined 146 

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day 222 

The forward youth that would appear 115 

The fountains mingle with the river 266 

The glories of our blood and state 124 

The last and greatest Herald of Heaven's King 105 

The lovely lass o' Inverness 194 

The man of life upright 102 

The merchant, to secure his treasure 205 



i36 Palgrave's Golden Treasury 

PAGE 

The more we live, more brief appear 388 

The Nightingale, as soon as April bringeth 78 

The poplars are fell'd; farewell to the shade 217 

There be none of Beauty's daughters 254 

There is a flower, the lesser Celandine 303 

There is a garden in her face 142 

There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away 302 

Theres not a nook within this solemn Pass 390 

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream . . .391 

The sea hath many thousand sands 83 

The sun is warm, the sky is clear 306 

The sun upon the lake is low 354 

The tv/entieth year is well-nigh past 242 

The world is too mucTi with us; late and soon 380 

They are all gone into the world of light 159 

They that have power to hurt, and will do none .... 76 

This is the month, and this the happy morn 106 

This Life, which seems so fair 101 

Though others may her brow adore 71 

Thou art not fair, for all thy red and white 84 

Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness 381 

Three years she grew in sun and shower . 259 

Thy braes were bonny. Yarrow stream 196 

Timely blossom, Infant fair 188 

Tired with all these, for restful death I cry 104 

Toll for the Brave 198 

To me, fair Friend, you never can be old 61 

To one who has been long in city pent 332 

Turn back, you wanton flyer 66 

'Twas at the royal feast for Persia won 179 

'Twas on a lofty vase's side 187 

Two Voices are there; one is of the Sea 291 

Under the greenwood tree . £7 

Upon my lap my sovereign sits 1£5 

Verse, a breeze 'mid blossoms straying 383 

Victorious men of earth, no more 124 

Waken, lords and ladies gay 322 

"Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie 218 

Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee 87 

Weep you no more, sad fountains 64 

Were I as base as is the lowly plain 71 

We talk'd with open heart, and tongue 386 

We walk'd along, while bright and red 384 

We watch'd her breathing thro' the night 315 

Whenas in silks my Julia goes 145 

When Britain first at Heaven's command 189 

When first the fiery-mantled Sun 344 

When God at first m.ade Man 128 

When he who adores thee has left but the name .... 296 

When icicles hang by the wall 73 

When I consider how my light is spent 126 

When I have borne in memory what has tamed 293 

When I have fears that 1 may cease to be 279 



Index of Fitst Lines 437 

PAGE 

When 1 have seen by Time's fell hand defaced 54 

When I survey the bright 176 

When I think on the happy days 232 

When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes 60 

When in the chronicle of wasted time 65 

When lovely woman stoops to folly 206 

When Love with uncon fined wings 149 

When maidens such as Hester die 312 

When Music, heavenly maid, was young 211 

When Ruth was left half desolate 363 

When the lamp is shatter'd 276 

When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at hame . 228 

When thou must home to shades of underground .... 87 

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought 74 

When we two parted . . . -. 271 

Where art thou, my beloved Son 320 

Where shall the lover rest 272 

Where the bee sucks, there suck I 52 

Where the remote Bermudas ride 174 

Whether on Ida's shady brow 247 

While that the sun with his beams hot 82 

Whoe'er she be 132" 

Why art thou silent? Is thy love a plant 270 

Why so pale and wan, fond lover 150 

Why weep ye by the tide, ladie 265 

With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb 'st the skies . . 86 

With little here to do or see 341 

With sweetest milk and sugar first 162 

Ye banks and braes and streams around 227 

Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon 207 

Ye distant spires, ye antique towers 235 

Ye Mariners of England 285 

Yes, there is holy pleasure in thine eye 334 

Yet once more, O ye lavu-els, and once more 118 

You meaner beauties of the night 138 



APPENDIX 

(Adapted, and enlarged, from the Manual for the Study 
of English Classics, by George L. Marsh) 

HELPS TO STUDY 

The following suggestions and questions have mainly 
to do with Books II, III, and IV, as Book I is not in- 
cluded among the requirements for college entrance. 

On the Study of Poetry 

What reasons are there for regarding poetry as the 
"chief of the arts" (p. vi) ? What is the most im- 
portant quality that poetry must have (p. vii) 1 What 
defense is there for the actual lack of truth that is often 
found in poetry (pp. viii, ix) ? What defense is there 
ever for ugliness in poetry (p. x) ? Should poetry teach 
(p. xi) ? 

What chief characteristics did Milton say poetry should 
have (p. xii), and how are they respectively to be ex- 
plained? From the poems read, add illustrations of these 
characteristics to those given by the editor. 

Find good illustrations, in the poems read, of effective 
use of specific details, specific words. (See, e. g., pp. 144, 
343, 375, 376.) 

Find examples, similarly, of suggestive use of words 
such as the editor describes on page 6. 

What distinctions are to be made between fancy and 
438 



APPENDIX 439 

imagination (pp. 7-9) ? Find examples of each in the 
poems read. 

What sort of words are usually to be preferred in 
poetry (p. 11) and why? What is the "pathetic fallacy" 
(p. 13)? 

Find examples of the various measures, lengths of 
lines, and metrical variations described on pages 14-21. 

Find examples of double and triple rhyme; of inac- 
curate rhymes; of weak or light rhymes (all explained, 
p. 22). Find good examples of effective alliteration; of 
effective assonance (or combinations of assonance and 
alliteration). Do you find any alliteration that seems to 
be excessive and therefore ineffective? 

Find examples of as many as possible of the stanzas 
described on pages 25-28. Note other stanzaic forms, 
writing out the rhyme schemes and noting the number of 
accents in each line. (See, e. g., pp. 107, 143, 218, 269, 
etc.) 

What are the chief kinds of poetry, and the most im- 
portant subdivisions of each (pp. 31-37) ? Are all di- 
visions represented in this volume (p. 47) ? 

Why should poetry be read aloud as much as possible 
(pp. 38, 39) ? What benefits result from study of poetry 
(pp. 40 ff.) ? 

Questions on Specific Poems 

What stanzaic forms are used in Milton's "Nativity 
Ode" (pp. 106 ff.) ? Do these forms have any feature in 
common? There are a good many inaccurate rhymes in 
this poem. Are they all to be accounted for by differ- 
ences of pronunciation in Milton's time and ours? Pick 
out some stanzas in this poem in which the sound is par- 
ticularly well adapted to the sense. Is the ending in any 



440 APPENDIX 

way weak or inartistic? Why are so many heathen gods 
brought into the poemf 

Note the very striking sonority of sound through the 
use of long o's in the sonnet from Milton on pages 114, 
115. What indications of Milton's character do you 
find in the sonnets read from him? What is his attitude 
in relation to his blindness (p. 126) ? 

What were the circumstances of the composition of 
Lycidas (pp. 118-123) ? Note the divisions of the poem. 
Is the lament for King an expression of genuine feeling, 
or is it only conventional? Is this lament the main 
theme? Point out the pastoral elements in Lycidas. 
Collect examples of lapses from the pastoral form. Do 
lines 70 ff. illustrate Milton's own spirit in taking up the 
poetical career? Is the attack on the corruption in the 
church (p. 121) appropriate? How is transition made to 
and from this passage? 

In Dryden's two poems on St. Cecilia's day (pp. 113 £f., 
179 ff.), point out some of the most successful variations 
of meter to suit the thought. Docs the attractiveness of 
these poems lie chiefly in their subject or their form? 
Note how repetitions are used, especially in the latter of 
the two. What fundamental thought and purpose is 
common to the two — and why? 

Who is supposed to have influenced Milton in the com- 
position of L* Allegro and II Penseroso (pp. 166-174)? 
Make a comparison of the two poems as to introduc- 
tion and invocation, plan and structure, versification 
and use of words, dramatic background and picture paint- 
ing, and conclusion. What two different attitudes toward 
life are represented? Which poem do you think represents 
Milton's genuine attitude? Give the rhyme schemes for 
the introduction and the main parts of both poems. Vis- 



APPENDIX 441 

ualize with care the series of pictures in L' Allegro — the 
morning, the noon-day, and the evening scenes. Those 
in II Penseroso — the night and morning scenes. Why 
does the hero of L' Allegro invoke the lark and that of 
II Penseroso the nightingale? Why does the series of 
pictures in L' Allegro begin with the morning and that in 
II Penseroso with the evening? How do you harmonize 
Milton's ^Puritanism with his evident delight in the pleas- 
ures mentioned in these poems? 

Point out a few of -the best examples of Herrick 's pe- 
culiar grace and felicity of phrasing. Some of his most 
effective bits of realistic detail. 

How many different lengths of line do you find in the 
poems trom Herrick? How many different forms of 
stanzas? Are all the forms interesting and effective?' 
What popular customs are reflected by Herrick (e. g., 
pp. 143 ff.) ? 

Find examples, in the poems read from Collins, of both 
the merits and the faults mentioned on page 410. What 
various metrical and stanzaic forms does Collins use? 
Which of his poems is unrhymed? Would it be more or 
less effective, in your opinion, if rhymed? Was the use 
of unrhymed verse significant in Collins ' time ? 

How many different stanzaic forms and lengths of lines 
do you find in the poems from Gray? What is your gen- 
eral impression as to the metrical variety and effectiveness 
of his work? Sum up the substance of the history of 
poetry as Gray gives it (pp. 207-10). Find variations 
of metrical movement to fit the sense, and compare them 
with such variations in Dryden and in Collins (pp. 
211-14). 

Do you agree with Palgrave's comment on Covrper's 



442 APPENDIX 

^'Loss of the Eoyal George" (p. 412)? Discuss also 
his comment on Cowper's finest sonnet (p. 414). 

Do you find advantages in the metrical form of Gray's 
*' Elegy" pp. 222-225)? What uses does Gray make of 
external nature? What kind of nature does he prefer? 
Why? What is Gray's attitude toward humble life? Com- 
pare him with' Goldsmith as to depth of sympathy with 
humble life. Note the great number of adjectives used 
in the *^ Elegy" — almost every noun has at least one 
epithet. Do they ever seem monotonous? Make a col- 
lection of the lines and phrases of the ''Elegy" that 
have passed into popular speech. How do you account 
for the popi^larity of the poem? 

What attitude toward animals is indicated in Burns 's 
''To a Mouse" (pp. 218, 219) ? How is the poem given 
a personal application? 

Study the songs of Burns to discover if they are really 
singable. Have you a favorite among those selected, or a 
favorite stanza? Discuss the choice, with reasons. 

Does the historical error (p. 416) in what is perhaps 
Keats 's most famous sonnet seriously detract from its 
effectiveness ? 

It has been suggested that there is a logical flaw in 
the "Ode to a Nightingale" (pp. 329-31) — can you find 
it? Suppose it exists, is the poem injured seriously? 

What is the dominant thought as to art in the "Ode 
on a Grecian Urn" (pp. 381, 382)? 

Which poems of Keats are in the meter of L 'Allegro 
and II Fenseroso? And what is their spirit? 

Study the plan of "La Belle Dame sans Merci" (pp. 
274, 275) — note who are the speakers in the different 
stanzas. 



APPENDIX 443 

Discuss the judgment expressed on page 416 as to a 
favorite among Byron 's shorter poems. 

Try similarly to decide upon a favorite among the se- 
lections from Scott (see p. 417). Would you say, for ex- 
ample, that the ''Pibroch" (p. 283) or the "Coronach" 
(p. 314) challenges "Proud Maisie"? 

What is the relation of the last part of ' ' Kubla Khan ' ' 
(p. 358) to the preceding? What lines of this poem can 
be taken as descriptive of Coleridge? 

Pick out allusions to Shelley himself in the selections 
from him (e. g., pp. 306, 339, 376). How is the metrical 
form of the "Ode to the West Wind" (p. 375) appro- 
priate to its meaning ? Is the same true of "To a Sky- 
lark" (pp. 324-26)? Compare this poem with Words- 
worth's poem on the same bird (p. 323). What appro- 
priateness is there in Shelley 's calling himself Ariel 
Cp. 338)? 

What are the most striking merits of Campbell's pa- 
triotic poems (pp. 285 ff., 293) ? 

What is there unusual about the form of ' ' The Bridge 
of Sighs" (pp. 309-11)? Is it effective? 

Are there examples in the selections from Wordsworth 
(e. g., pp. 263-65, 363-69, 384-88) of his carrying his 
theory as to poetic diction too far? 

In ^ ' Euth " is it necessary or desirable to have so much 
explanation of the Georgian's reasons for deserting 
Ruth? 

In Wordsworth's own arrangement of his poems (later 
than those written in youth), "My heart leaps up," etc. 
■(p. 391), was placed first. Can you suggest why? 

What main idea is common to "The Daffodils" (p. 
341) and "To the Cuckoo" (p. 328)? 

What alternations of mood are there in the first four 



444 APPENDIX 

stanzas of the ''Ode on Immortality" (pp. 391 &.)1 
Which mood conquers in the end? What is the connection 
between stanzas iv and v? Which stanza brings out tne 
central thought of the poem? State this central thought 
briefly. 

THEME SUBJECTS 

1. The pastoral life as conceived by the Elizabethans 
(pp. 55, 82, etc.). 

2. Nature pictures in Spenser 's ' ' Prothalamion ' ' 

(pp. 95 fe.). 

3. A connected summary of Milton's ''Nativity 
Ode" (pp. 106 fe.). 

4. Lycidas as a personal lament. (Of. Shelley's 
Adonais, Tennyson's In Memoriam, or Arnold's Thyrsis.) 

5. Pastoral elements in Lycidas. 

6. A defense or criticism of the digression on cor- 
ruption in the church (p. 121) as a part of this poem. 

7. The relation of Milton's Minor Poems to his 
Puritanism. 

8. Summaries or condensed paraphrases of L' Alle- 
gro and II Penseroso. 

9. Comparison of the poems just mentioned, as to 
invocation, plan, versification, etc. Comparison of the two 
theories of life 's purposes shown by the two poems. 

10. Nature pictures in these poems (or the subject 
may be limited to one of them, or to some specific pic- 
ture). 

11. Amusements that Milton enjoyed. 

12. Maying in Herrick's time and now (pp. 143-45). 

13. The power of music (as illustrated in Dryden's 
poem, pp. 179-82). 



APPENDIX 445 

14. The story of Gray's Bard (pp. 190-94; supply 
imaginatively any deficiencies). 

15. Your favorite song of Burns. 

16. The story of ''Lucy" (an imaginary one sug- 
gested by Wordsworth's poems; pp. 258-60). 

17. The story of Lord Ullin's daughter (pp. 261-63). 

18. At the court of "La Belle Dame sans Merci" 
(pp. 274, 275). 

19. An account of the Battle of the Baltic (pp. 
287, 288). 

20. Comparison of Wordsworth 's and Shelley 's * ' Sky- 
lark" poems (pp. 32.3-26). 

21. A story suggested by "Kubla Khan" (a continu- 
ation of Coleridge's poem; pp. 358, 359). 

22. The story of Euth (pp. 363-69). 

23. A description of the Grecian urn that Keats saw 
(suggested by pp. 381, 382). 



